Residual: The Gray-Matter Chronicles Book 3 (The Matter Chronicles 6)

by P. G. Thomas

  In the following weeks, Darkpaye ships arrived at the Calicon docks. Greeting them, representatives from all the thief guilds, dressed like businessmen. Each had set up a temporary building showing the properties they had for sale, and even after the new immigrants visited all of the displays, those inside would not negotiate on the prices, as they had been set by the Shadow Council, ensuring unsanctioned prices were unable to devalue the market. As most lots were empty or still covered in debris, they also offered their services to build the new houses. The rates were reasonable, reasonably high, especially if you controlled the organized labor, which had been mistreated for years.

  Then events almost became normal. Lauren and her Earth Guards visited Jedimac, making arrangements about Zymse’s wealth, which also included providing some comfort to the families of the misguided Calicon that had sought employment from the man who favored black. Steve accompanied John and his Earth Guards to the school, trying to help him fix the machine, but in the end, only helped to strip off the remaining components. Without Ironhouse to help repair it, the future of the machine was uncertain, just like the impending battle. Panry Moonshadow, Cethail Highbreeze, and Erust Huntinghawk became accomplished nanny’s, seeing to all of the triplets needs. However, on quiet nights, Panry and Jasmine would sneak away for a secret rendezvous, which all knew about. Lauren and Ryan visited the Earth Daughters, listening to the stories of the hope they spread. Although, on those trips, they also saw that the wounds between Darkpaye and Calicon had failed to heal, which raised concerns that an infection still festered. She spent time with Oxron, telling him of his father, but every third day, she would crawl into the tree that Jasmine had shown her. There, she would talk to Mother, watching the congregation of dwarves grow, as Nevermore loomed larger on the distant horizon. The only semi-predictable event, who would scream the loudest that night, as even though Zymse may have left the lands, he had invaded their dreams.

  Having been quiet for three months, one morning, Lauren invited them all into the sunroom. “Steve, go to Alron to get Zack and his children. Horac will be with him, and wait for my Earth Bond. Panry, keep our daughters safe. Nevermore has arrived.”

  Chapter 31

  When the portal opened, Lauren, surrounded by her Earth Guards, stepped through onto the rocky surface. Slowly turning, she looked upon the rolling grassy hills and valleys, and the snow-capped mountains that surrounded the circular valley. This time, a peaceful green sea of blowing grass never welcomed them, as a thousand plus dwarf banners fluttered in the wind. In every direction the elves looked, the rolling hills were shrouded with armed and armored dwarves, seeing the battle lust easily in the eyes of the closest. While some rode war ponies covered with protective leather or metal, most were on foot. Raised in the air, war axes of all sizes, as tired arms made them undulate back and forth, giving the scene an appearance of an angry sea. Its waves forged in the dark dwarf mines, as the sunlight reflected off of the metal axes caused them to look like angry white caps breaking. Not only were axes present, but also every type of weapon could be seen from short swords to pole arms; from exquisitely crafted mithril weapons to crudely formed wooden clubs. Armor also showed the same eclectic mix, as some dwarves had simple metal plates strapped to their bodies with cooking pots for helmets, yet others were dressed in the new thin mithril garments inspired by Ironhouse. They also saw those mounted on blood wolves, and at many of the standards that flew from the highest hills, clean-shaven dwarves with the elongated swords stood beside their Clan Leaders and Battle Marshals. In the center of all of the clans, young children comforted dwarven babies, and protecting them, the mothers and wives of the warriors who wore the same fierce determination. In front of them, the beards gray with age, holding rusty weapons that no other dwarf wanted. The aged forefathers who would do what was necessary to protect their legacies, who bravely cowered behind them, as they wore false courageous looks of victory. It was apparent to the elves that all of the dwarven mines had emptied, as even Rockeaters waited for Nevermore.

  Clans that arrived early had dug trenches or used their wagons to make fortifications, and others had just cut a line in the grass to mark their territory. Even though some had positioned themselves beside allies they had forged in secret, several clans with long-standing feuds had purposely located themselves close to their hated rivals, and smaller ones sent out runners trying to broker their support to ensure their survival. Along the division lines between them, and even where some had formed into larger allied forces, small fights began to break out. They were the harbingers of chaos, acting like the first bubbles that floated to the top of a pot of water left over an open flame for too long. However, it is a well-known fact, shortly after the first rise, it takes little time before the surface erupts into chaos, and in a pot this size, hundreds of thousands anticipated their opportunity.

  The small mountain Lauren stood upon was an oddity in the valley, having an appearance that it did not belong, much like the dwarven mass surrounding it.

  Jasmine stepped forward, “Earth Mother, we need to stop this!”

  Stepping forward, calling to the magic, the winds carried Lauren’s quiet words, “Welcome to the Battle of Nevermore,” and a deathly hush embraced the seething masses. She sent out her Earth Bond, “Make room for Ironhouse”, and even though the clans that blocked the path had maneuvered for their current vantage point, they felt compelled to vacate it. Ironhouse had left last, and when a large route opened for them, they gladly began to advance to the front. After a long wait, when Aaro with Bor Ironhouse crested the hill, chants for the battle to start filled the air.

  From the small mountaintop, Lauren erupted, “SILENCE! There’s one ritual we need to complete before you can have your day. The clan leaders may now approach.” Seeing only Aaro walk nervously forward, she vented her frustration, yet the winds had no reason to carry her message, as all in the valley heard it. “CLAN LEADERS TO ME, NOW!” They felt the Earth Bond, and while not understanding why or how, answered it. Either by foot or mounted on war ponies, they headed to her. Even more confusing to some, the recently formed Guardians, who had their bonds of protection forged in granite, felt compelled to remain behind.

  Descending down the carved stairs that led into the valley, it took Lauren a half hour to reach the bottom, and once there, she sent out her Earth Bond, legends to me. When two portals opened behind her, those that traveled by magic stepped forward. From the first, a tall silver-gray man stepped forward, followed by a large timber wolf with two Bastards, whose rolled sleeves exposed their tattoos, and perched on their shoulders, two giant bald eagles. From the second, Rage Heart, twelve feet tall, solid stone, stepped forward, followed by John wearing a simple black robe, which he had a local seamstress make, and on his wrist was the platinum bracer, which he hoped still contained magic. The last to cross, his Earth Guards; Babartin with Careel.

  In front of them, the numerous fractions were easy to see. Some clan leaders had moved behind Aaro. However, the majority stood on the opposite side, and groups that numbered in the hundreds waited between them. Even in this unknown chaos, some of the weaker clans with poorly formed alliances looked to the stronger leaders. While some would nod, accepting the new clan leader into their group, others would only look away. It was increasing the heat under the pot, which wanted to boil over, and angered shouting matches bubbled forth, like hot gasses from a lava field where unseen pressures sought release.

  From the hilltop beside Bor, a bolt of gigantic lightning skyrocketed straight up. All of the clan leaders saw the dwarven forged armor that no dwarf could wear, the dwarven forged sword that no dwarf could ever hold, and the legend who championed both. Answering the Earth Bond, Eric began walking down the hill.

  Gril Stonefist pointed to Aaro, “In granite, you carved your word. You hand no interest in throne!” Calling to his camp, one dwarf began to lead a pony to the gathered group.

  Aaro’s angered voice boomed back, “I carved the truth, and I do not wan
t sit on the throne!”

  “You broke your Granite Peace. Ironhouse lies!”

  “INSULT MY CLAN NOT!” Then Aaro pointed to Eric, who was approaching, “I did not break it, the Champion did!”

  Gril spit on the ground, “Now in Mother’s bosom Ironhouse seeks protection. The favor of Father is not enough?”

  Irritation burnt in Aaro’s eyes, “Ironhouse neither hides nor favor seeks!”

  Gril looked at Eric, “The first battle you prevented, but you now provoke. Confused or dwarf, which are you?”

  “I’m dwarf,” and rolling his shoulder, Eric felt the scabbard fall into his hand.

  The dwarf that led the pony stopped, and struggling with the granite that it had carried, he dropped it in the front of the clearing. Gril pointed to it, “The words of Ironhouse, carved in granite. If they are true, leave this place, and wait for the Morning King to rise. Deal with your lies I—he will!”

  “The Master Weapon Smith did not break the Granite Peace, I did,” replied Eric.

  “I care not who speaks the lies of Ironhouse,” replied Gril.

  When Lauren waved her hand, the corrupting influence left Eric.

  “Why did I do that?”

  “Enough,” Lauren pointed her hand at the granite on the ground, “Shatter,” and it broke into a hundred pieces. She scanned the group of gathered clan leaders, as each was clutching their war axes so tight that their knuckles had turned white. “The Champion broke the granite, as one special person needed it to break.”

  Gril turned to the other dwarfs, “Mother corrupts the battle. Her protection she gifts to Ironhouse, so from the throne, they will rule all dwarf!”

  John stepped forward, “You don’t understand, The Morning King was from Mother, and it was Father who removed it from your past.”

  The vocal dwarf shook his head, “You speak lies forged by Ironhouse.”

  Then from behind the hill, metallic thunder began to ring out, and two-dozen Rockeaters led the procession of the remaining Ironhouse dwarves to the crest. Around them, hundreds of mounted dwarves rode, and more foot soldiers holding axes began to appear. Some Clan leaders that once hoped to claim the throne for themselves moved to the group that supported Gril Stonefist, as the rest moved behind Aaro, and then only a large void separated the two factions.

  Lauren shook her head, “Now that we’re all present, we can start.”

  Gril Stonefist smiled.

  “First,” added Lauren, “did any of you wonder why you all traveled here? Why, on your journey, no battles happened? Even though some of you marched for months, you could have easily attacked clans closer, yet you didn’t? When I first learned of this place, I visited it. Even I was unable to understand why Mother would command you here. Yes, you heard me right. It was Mother that selected this spot, and she had dwarf carve the location into the Granite Peace so all would know of it—but why? She wanted you to see something before you began, wantng to show you the future, and I think, only by having all dwarfs present, she could break Fathers spell.”

  Behind her, the mountain began to change. The front surface smoothed, altering as two large rock doors twenty feet tall by ten feet wide formed, and images carved in the distant past began to appear. They started thirty feet away, showing detailed battles with dragons, giants, and more, and proceeded to encircle the entrance way. Then, when an arch formed, it ended the first carvings, as more formed between it and the doors. While these encounters appeared more violent, they only showed dwarves battling each other. When the carvings stopped at the door, an image on them began to materialize. The suppressed reliefs rapidly expanded, showing a dwarf standing nearly twenty feet tall, being almost fifteen feet wide, and with the detail becoming so realistic, most expected it to step forward. Dressed in royal armor, its arms were extended straight down, ending with open empty hands, and on his head, a glorious carved crown, gilded in gold appeared. However, they were unable to see the face of the figure, as it looked down to the ground where the final images had materialized: two battle-axes, having their heads half buried in the base of the doors. Just below where the carved beard stopped, a belt buckle made from two crossed battle-axes extended from the relief.

  It was the keen eyesight of the elves that noticed the intricate detail of the tears, which ran down the carved beard.

  Gril Stonefist’s powerful voice thundered out, so loud that it echoed off the distant mountains, “All bow to the Morning King,” and the dwarves began to do so.

  Lauren quickly issued an Earth Bond to Ironhouse who remained standing.

  As anger burst forth from Gril, he turned to Lauren, “You play a trick. You think I announce Ironhouse to be the king and bow to them.” Raising his ax, he began to approach her.

  Pointing to the mountain, the last carvings appeared above the elaborate doors. They were old dwarven symbols, one simple phrase: dwarf helps dwarf. Then she spoke, “Only dwarf worthy can command them to open.”

  When Gril stepped forward, commanding his request, the doors remained closed. Several more did the same, yet still the doors barred their passage.

  Stepping to the front, Aaro examined the finely carved figure, and dropping his war ax, with open hands, he spoke one word, “Open.” The carved battle-axes that formed the belt buckle fell forward, shattering on the ground, allowing the great doors to open.

  Gril’s eyes opened wide, his face losing all color, and he bowed to Aaro, “My King,” and all of the dwarves did the same.

  “I AM NOT YOUR KING,” shouted Aaro, “The key in granite is carved for all to see.”

  Lauren nodded to Gril, “Enter if you wish.”

  Several of the dwarven clan leaders headed to the open doors, wondering what mysteries lay hidden in the dark, which most thought was actually a myth, but when they tried to cross the threshold, none could. Even though several tried to push Gril inside, no amount of effort allowed his passage.

  When the dwarves stepped back, Aaro advanced, and he saw similar images carved on the back of the doors of a dwarf with open hands. “This place is old. Before dwarf carved words in granite, they translated their simple meaning with chisel and hammer.” Stepping into the dark cavern, soft blue lights illuminated the hall, as he walked deeper into the mountain.

  Turning to Lauren, Gril had an angered, perplexed look on his face, “You play more tricks from Mother!”

  When she did not reply, Aaro did, “Be like he is, and you can enter.”

  Transforming back to normal, Steve walked over to the threshold and stepped through.

  Gril stammering in frustration finally spoke one word, “How?”

  Steve turned, pointing to the carved figures, “Weapons are forbidden here.” He then followed after Aaro.

  “A trick, trap,” exclaimed Gril when he turned to Lauren, “I do not trust you!”

  She walked over to the door, entered, and after her Earth Guards had set down their weapons, they followed her inside. Walking over to the door, Eric set the golden scabbard with the demi-mortal sword on the ground and also entered, followed by John.

  Gril looked at Rage Heart, “You do not enter. You will attack when I am absent.”

  Ryan transformed back to normal, “I am neither Ironhouse nor dwarf, so I cannot enter.”

  “Elf?”

  “They have an oath of protection that binds them to my wife. Where she goes, they follow, but if she was not Earth Mother Ironhouse, she would be unable to enter.”

  The one who had coveted the throne set his ax down, removed his hidden weapons, and tentatively stepped across the threshold. Upon seeing this, the rest of the clan leaders did the same and entered the dwarven hall. Following the finely crafted tunnel lit by soft blue lights to the end, it opened into a large cavern that measured two thousand yards in diameter. Then more soft lights illuminated stairs that led to upper balconies, which were carved in the back of the cavern that consumed the small mountain. Those dwarves who were unable to make it to the front quickly ascended to the upper l
evels for a better view. On each, guardrails carved out of solid stone held the awe inspired dwarves back from falling into the lower chamber that extended into the dark. Their eyes were drawn there, as they saw tiered rows of carved benches, but shadows quickly consumed the lower details.

  The mass of dwarves had forced Steve onto the walkway that circled the cavern, and when he began to walk around the chamber, he saw faint paintings on the walls, having condensation dripping down them. Wanting to see more, his body responded to his command, turning his eyes into Starlight Scopes, which magnified the insignificant light by a thousand fold. In the darkness, the images shocked him. Turning to the far wall, he saw a painting that stretched from the railing to the top of the vaulted ceiling, and on it, thousands of dead dwarves killed in battle. Scanning to the left, away from the balconies at the back, he saw the images change from dead dwarves to fights, and the farther he looked, the more the violence intensified. The walkway only circled half of the chamber, ending with stairs that led to the lower level, leaving the entire back wall free for the most disturbing vision. Where the stairs began, the dwarf images rushed forward in a thick mass, stretching from the very bottom of the cavern to the top of the vaulted ceiling. On the back wall, the top and bottom thirds of the two sides had met, and the painted images greeted each other in battle. With the middle third still advancing towards each other, staring at the painting, he had the sense of movement. Then his eyes magnified the view, zoomed in by a hundred fold, and seeing the painted figures slowly begin to move, he knew it was more than pigments on rock.

  Gril Stonefist turned to Lauren, breaking the silence, “Understand, I do not.”

  Then the dark room filled with light.

  As the dwarves stared at the images that overwhelmed them, Steve blinked, regaining his normal eyesight, and he scanned the bottom section of the chamber. Dozens of tiered benches circled three-quarters of the carved space, working their way to the base, and at the front, a humble carved stone throne sat. Being absent of scenes of battle, it looked more like an image of a waterfall captured by a photograph. When his eyesight zoomed in, he saw that it was not a carving, but small droplets of water actually emerged from the rock, as they slowly cascaded down the smooth, cold surface. Scanning the tiered rows of benches, he saw the dust swirl on them, as if somebody invisible had turned to look at the crowd of dwarves that now stared in silence.