by Travis Bughi
“The one with hair like fine gold, eh?” Tissyl licked her lips. “Well, what of it, manling?”
“All I can say is that I heard that, too.” Gavin shrugged. “There have been many rumors, though. First that all the angels had fled Lucifan, then that they were murdered, or instead that they gave their lives to the Angels’ Vassal. Now you’re telling me there’s still one left, and he’s vacationing in Khaz Mal? I suppose that one has just as much merit as the others: that is to say, none. I wouldn’t be surprised if the next rumor says all the angels rose back into the heavens to return one day. Someone might even start a cult.”
“Bah!” Tissyl waved a gnarled hand in Gavin’s direction. “What a helpful lot you are. I would have better luck trying to speak with a dragon. Well, any questions for this old, withered bag of bones? We’ll be setting up camp here for tonight if ye wish to join us. I want the not-an-orc sleeping on the other side of the camp, though. I have your word it’s tame?”
“Krunk not an animal,” Krunk said, wiping drool from his lips. “Why everyone so afraid of Krunk?”
“It speaks?” Tissyl raised an eyebrow.
“And it has feelings, too,” Takeo replied coldly. “I find it strange you insulted our viking on his manners only to be rude yourself. I’ve known children to show better respect.”
Tissyl bristled, and the other dwarves around her shifted awkwardly, as if floating between embarrassment and anger. A good few of them actually snarled and reached for weapons—perhaps they were Tissyl’s direct kin, who took criticism of their elder harshly—but Takeo held firm. He did not fear death, especially now that he had so little to live for.
Out of the corner of his eye, Takeo caught Gavin beaming with approval.
Tissyl grumbled and twisted in place, then looked to the ogre and met his eye.
“Krunk’s your name?” she said. “Well I apologize, Krunk. You’ll have to excuse an old dwarf’s disposition. I’ve met a lot of enemies that look like you.”
“So has Krunk,” he replied. “Krunk sorry, too.”
“For what?”
“For scaring you,” Krunk said, looking genuinely apologetic.
Gavin laughed, and after a moment, Tissyl chuckled. With the tension brought on by Takeo’s words dissolved, they resumed discussion of the world at large. Takeo asked his questions next. He was curious about what the dwarves were exploring for. They gave him an interesting answer.
It turned out Tissyl and the others were searching for new mining sites. The dwarves, who relied on mining for just about every aspect of their lives, used the minerals and metals they found not only to make tools, weapons, and structures, but also to sustain their economy and way of life. Finding enough food in the Khaz Mal Mountains was always a concern due to the lack of farmable land, so the larger dwarven holds traded minerals, jewels, and metals for crops and other edibles that didn’t spoil easily.
When Tissyl mentioned they were always searching, Takeo commented that they must cover a lot of ground to try to find all the mines in the Khaz Mal.
Tissyl laughed at this and explained, “We don’t hike the whole range. Snow melts each spring, gets trapped in cracks and holes, and refreezes each winter. It takes hundreds of thousands of years, but every spring, we find new openings ripe for mining.”
Tissyl Arvaria and her brood were one of several scouting parties on the hunt for such newfound wealth.
“On the Great Plains, they hunt behemoths,” Tissyl explained. “In The North, they hunt ships. In Khaz Mal, we hunt ore.”
“I suppose that’s rather poetic, coming from a dwarf,” Takeo replied.
“Aye, and you’d be right. Now, do you know how much trouble you’re in, laddie?”
“I’m in no trouble at all.”
“But you are!” Tissyl smiled, revealing all four teeth. “You’re bound for Juatwa, and through viking land. Apparently you haven’t heard, but rumor has it the world is in chaos.”
Tissyl went on to explain the bits and pieces of information she’d picked up over the year from other travelers, mostly dwarves.
Juatwa was sundered. Lady Xuan had somehow botched her opportunity to enclose the land in her grasp, and a new Katsu—or two—had risen to challenge her. There was word that Lord Jiro’s surviving family and those loyal to that name were resisting as well. Although Lady Xuan was the dominant force in the region now, she was not yet Empress, and each battle she lost emboldened more to abandon her cause. She might have crushed Lord Jiro and Katsu with a single act of treachery, but Juatwa was still mired in blood. In fact, if the rumors were true, now that the oni and akki were joining in and taking sides, the carnage of today was tenfold worse than it had been. Some daimyo were becoming so desperate that they were hiring mercenary armies imported from Savara, The North, or any other place that could provide a man or woman holding a sword. Juatwa was running out of bodies.
Savara was no better. Jabbar’s life and death had been equal tragedy and enlightenment for the region. In life, Jabbar had shown that with the proper amount of intelligence, ambition, and ruthlessness, Savara could be conquered. The old warlords, who’d once been satisfied to suck the dried teat of one city, or two, now thirsted for an imaginary crown, envisioning a throne made of the skulls of their enemies. In death, Jabbar had made such a thing possible by leaving behind a blight of mercenary armies loyal to no one but themselves. Like a scattering of kobolds, these groups were sacking and pillaging at an unprecedented rate, turning the land of blood and sand into a land of fire and death. The influx of Lucifan’s fleeing citizens only added fuel to the flames.
“There is one bit of good news out of all of this,” Tissyl said. “Word has it that the humans learned their lesson with Jabbar. Warlords across the land are offering huge bounties for every rakshasa head brought to their door. No city is a sanctuary for the beasts, and they are being hunted into extinction. Powerful though they may be, not even a rakshasa can survive the fury of a mob.”
“They intend to kill them off?” Takeo asked, stunned. “How? Rakshasas can disguise themselves as anyone.”
“I know not how,” Tissyl replied, holding up her hands in defense. “That’s just what the rumors say.”
The rumors also said that The North was mired in frenzy, though to a lesser degree. It seemed that Carlito Hacke’s death at Emily’s hands had inadvertently launched a small slave revolt in that region. Despite being put down quickly, the revolt destabilized the area and weakened a few ancient holds. The only thing vikings loved more than challenging the strong was pillaging the weak. They were a strange people.
With all said and done, the rumors painted a bleak picture.
“In our history books,” Tissyl said, waving a hand through the air at a huge, imaginary tome, “it will say that an army of thousands came charging across the sea to burn Lucifan to the ground. The Angels’ Vassal stopped it there, saving the city, the Great Plains, the Forest of Angor, and Themiscyra in one fell battle, but she doomed all the lands to the east to die by their own voracious wrath. I tell you, I even fear for my cousins who live on that side of Khaz Mal. Depending on who or what reigns supreme in Savara, The North, or Juatwa, they might be fighting a war of their own next.”
“A terrifying thought,” Gavin said with a nod. “Have the dwarves ever fought a war before?”
“There were times long ago when we fought amongst ourselves. Also, as is the nature of this world, we fight to protect our land from creatures, like orcs, but also from pillagers. Vikings and mercenaries from Savara never hesitate to raid dwarven caravans loaded with gems, and no amount of words will ever reason with a dragon. As for wars, though, no. We dwarves have not participated in a human war since the Savara of old was shattered and the rakshasas enslaved the land. I hardly know that history, though. It happened so long ago that the books from that time require special care just to be opened, lest the pages break into dust.”
“I thought dwarves wrote on stone,” Nicholas said.
“
Ha! We ought to.” Tissyl’s laugh ended in wheezing. “Other than it’s a terrible idea, I’d agree to it.”
Takeo sat quietly, eyes staring off at a random grey rock no bigger than himself just ten paces away. There was nothing special about the rock, yet he found himself looking at it so intently that he missed the next part of the conversation.
Is this your legacy, Emily? he asked the rock. All you did, all you sacrificed, just to watch the world burn? Did they learn nothing from you? Did you not give everything you had?
He knew it was never her intention to save people from themselves, but could it truly be that while she had followed an angel’s will, all others had decided to follow the rakshasa instead, bringing an era of death and destruction. Oh, how Jabbar would smile.
“Takeo!” Gavin’s loud voice pierced his subconscious, and he turned to find all eyes on him.
“What?” he asked, withdrawing a hair.
“The kind lady is asking us to follow her,” Gavin said. “She says there’s a better place to camp up over this ridge.”
“Oh, yes.” Takeo nodded. “Sorry.”
“I don’t know where you went just then, laddie,” Tissyl said cautiously, “but judging by the look in your eye, I don’t want to follow.”
Chapter 14
They made camp, ate food, and drew lots for first watch. Krunk was one of those individuals, and Takeo was pleased to see that Tissyl raised no objection. Instead, she took a vested interest in Takeo’s sword.
“A katana of dwarven make,” she said, leaning up against a rock. “Now that’s something one doesn’t see every day.”
Her face spoke of casual curiosity, but her body twitched with questions. Takeo noticed this and decided to let those questions go unanswered, preferring to draw out rather than meet her enthusiasm.
“I can see it from here, even sheathed,” Tissyl continued. “The handle, the sheath, that guard, even its size gives it away. Dwarves make sturdy weapons, don’t they? How’d you come by that, samurai?”
“I was enslaved by orcs once, alongside a group of dwarves,” Takeo explained, picking over the truth carefully. “When the dwarves came and rescued their kin, they rescued me as well. I helped them, and they helped me in return. When I left their hold, they made sure I was armed.”
“Which hold?”
“I couldn’t say which hold.” Takeo shrugged. “But I remember the names of the dwarves who saved us. One in particular, Hadkar Grumdisnev, and his cousin, Helga.”
“Grumdisnev!” Tissyl laughed and punched the air. “Me own cousins! Now that’s a name I’ve not heard in too long. Aye, I knew Helga, too, once when she was a wee lass. Haha!”
Tissyl launched into a huge speech about how the Arvaria and the Grumdisnev families were related through a long line of marriage and blood, dating back close to a thousand years ago. She knew each character in the story by name, but Takeo quickly lost track after her fourth uncle on her mother’s father’s father’s side was first cousins with the lass who married Helga’s mother’s first husband’s uncle’s wife’s second cousin’s grandmother on the father’s mother’s side. There was probably more in there, but Takeo missed that, too.
“I tell you,” Tissyl said, still smiling and laughing at the end of her short and yet too long tale, “put any two dwarves in a room, give them some time, and they’ll figure out how they’re related.”
Takeo helplessly agreed and curled up for the night, thinking he’d sleep better with more allies nearby, but then the dwarves started snoring, and that dream went out the window.
In the morning, they gave brief goodbyes, and the dwarves went one way while the humans and ogre went another. Tissyl made Takeo swear to give Helga her regards if he ran into the Grumdisnev clan again, and Takeo once more agreed because there seemed to be no better options.
One month, a few dragon sightings, and a brief standoff with a cyclops later and they were off the Khaz Mal Mountains and trudging down into The North just in time for summer.
What Takeo saw quickly changed his entire concept of how the vikings survived.
For some odd reason, Takeo had unconsciously assumed that The North was always frozen. He’d seen it for himself in the dead of winter, when the ground was so covered in ice and snow that it seemed plain as day that nothing could or would ever grow there. Sure, both Kollskegg and Nicholas had said green grass grew at times, but that just hadn’t seemed possible. What did they know, anyway? To the vikings, who raided and sailed on ships, a single off-color piece of vegetation probably qualified as green grass, while to Takeo, who was from the lush paradise of Juatwa, that would seem like a barren waste. Not even their recent trip through Khaz Mal had convinced Takeo that The North would actually support life.
Yet as they crossed into that land, The North proved him wrong. It was a gorgeous place.
Green fields, bright as the Forest of Angor and spotted with a mix of yellow, white, and purple flowers, stretched across once frozen dirt. Lakes and ponds of melted snow littered the landscape in all shapes and sizes, each flat as glass save for the occasional breeze that rippled along the surface. The sun shone bright and full above white, puffy clouds, which rolled over the landscape to create pockets of shade. The breeze was fresh and the sun never harsh, making each day the perfect temperature, comfortable to enjoy in any arrangement of clothing, from Takeo’s boiled leather to his kimono. All the while, white-topped mountains set a beautiful backdrop that made the cold seem like a distant memory, and Takeo wondered how any place could swing so much from one end of the spectrum to the other.
Nicholas didn’t stop grinning the entire first day.
“This is why I love The North,” he yelled into the breeze and beat his chest. “Do you feel that? Do you smell that?”
Takeo, Gavin, and Krunk took a deep breath. Takeo smelled nothing of note, but Gavin and Krunk nodded.
“Flowers,” Gavin said and nodded his approval. “Now that’s something you don’t smell much in Lucifan.”
“Krunk like flowers,” the ogre said and drew in another deep breath. “Eat flowers?”
Nicholas shrugged. “You won’t like them, but I won’t stop you either.”
“If you like the smell of flowers, just wait until we’re in Juatwa,” Takeo said. “Although, I have to admit this place has its own beauty.”
Nicholas roared and lifted his chin to let his beard flutter in the wind. “I could live here forever.”
“Or until you die in a fight,” Gavin said.
“Whichever comes first.” Nicholas laughed. “Come on!”
The viking broke into a run across the grass, surprising his party members, who took a moment to recover and follow. Nicholas bounded over rocks, leapt past tiny streams and brooks, and tossed aside his pack and clothing as he charged toward the nearest lake. By the time he reached the water, he was stark naked and running at full speed. His laughter only died as he splashed into the water, sending waves rolling along the once perfectly smooth surface.
Nicholas disappeared for a moment, then broke free in a dramatic display, sucking in a huge breath of air and whipping his wet hair back and forth like an animal.
“Damn that feels good,” Nicholas said and shivered. “Jump in! It’s shallow enough.”
Seeing no reason not to, the others agreed and stripped down to join the viking. They were certainly filthy, having lain out on the ground for the past half a year without ever bathing. The rivers up in Khaz Mal flowed too swift to risk swimming in it.
Yet, when Takeo stepped into the lake with Nicholas, he was quickly reminded that this body of water was made of melted snow. His skin tightened, the air was sucked from his lungs, and he found it difficult to breathe as he slipped into water that could have passed for flowing ice. Gavin and Krunk did the same thing, and Nicholas laughed aloud.
“You wimps!” he taunted. “That’s why you jump in. I thought you said you endured winter here, Takeo, yet you’re shivering like you’ve never been cold.”
/> “Oh, I’ve been colder,” Takeo replied, “but that doesn’t make this water warm.”
“It’s not much worse than Lucifan’s ocean,” Gavin said, “but I’m in agreement with Takeo.”
“Krunk can’t feel his toes. Wait, wait.” Krunk squinted one eye, then sighed in relief. “Ahhh . . . okay, water is warmer now.”
“Damn it, Krunk!” the other three shouted and barreled out of the lake.
Once they were all back on shore, a tad cleaner, and not as wet, they began their march again, and Nicholas brought to Takeo’s attention something he’d been thinking about.
“So that dwarf was pretty insistent that the world is burning from the inside out,” he said. “She made it sound like instead of green fields in The North, we’d find red ones instead.”
“I wouldn’t doubt her just yet,” Gavin replied. “I heard similar rumors in Lucifan. That didn’t stop people from fleeing the city, but I don’t trust refugees any more than I trust merchants carrying half-remembered truths.”
“They’re still half-truths, though, aren’t they?” Nicholas said. “The way I see it, there is certainly something going on to get so many people to make mention of it. I’m thinking we ought to support caution over boldness.”
“That’s not very viking like,” Takeo said.
“I might be one now, but I was a plains farmer first. Caution is in my blood.”
“So what are you getting at?” Takeo continued. “You make it sound like my intention was to storm the first viking village I came across, behead its leader, and declare myself Supreme Jarl of The North.”
“Tyrant of The North sounds better,” Gavin said.
“Noted.” Nicholas’ face relayed that he didn’t appreciate the humor. “You know, I find it strange that I’m the one suggesting caution. Aren’t you two supposed to be more concerned for your lives than me? I’m the viking after all.”
Gavin and Takeo shared a glance before turning to look ahead again.
“Nope,” Takeo said.
“You have too much to live for,” Gavin added.
