The tales said that, at a time of strife, one day people just stopped coming, and anyone who went in did not come out. Armies were sent. They didn’t return either. As a final straw, long after the last Dwarf to visit there had died, and they were a long-lived race, all of the records about its location were lost in the madness of The Burning.
Some now regarded Dwarvenholme as just a tale. Others set out to find it. Perhaps some did find it, as they didn’t return. This might be due to whatever had doomed the city, or it might just be due to the normal hazards of the wild tribes: Gnolls, Hobgoblins, Ogres and even The Dragon of the mountains. Dwarves bred slowly and so many Dwarves had not returned from their questing that the elders had eventually banned anyone from seeking it. Despite this some still sought it under the guise of trying to find new mines, always a respectable quest for a Dwarf, and some still did not return.
Thord also wanted to seek Dwarvenholme, but he would be content with just seeing the world before coming back and finding a partner. These were dreams, and perhaps more than dreams. It was a feeling that everything so far was leading up to something.
It had all simmered in his head unremarked until one night, when Thord had brought his flock in to Kharlsbane for the autumn cull, he went to the tavern. There was a small group there from Darkreach who had obviously made a very successful trading trip. They had clearly been on the trail for some time and the ring of empty tables around them and their aroma made it apparent. To Thord, however, they smelt of travel and of excitement. They smelt of destiny come calling. He looked around and decided to take one of these empty seats. Even though he could not understand a word being said it was obvious that they were parting with the merchant.
Maybe he could leave with them or with the merchant, he mused.
The Human guards left the other two behind, returning some time later washed and changed. The woman now wore more normal clothes, as if she were from the Caliphate, although she still wore a sword, but then everyone else in the tavern had a weapon at hand. Dwarves always carried arms with them. After talking with the innkeeper the two started to entertain the customers. Songs were sung in a variety of languages. The only one that Thord understood was the Trade tongue of the brown-skinned Human southerners of Hind. One of the languages the girl sang in was very soft and flowed around the ears like honey. It was very fair and beautiful and, although few seemed to understand it, the song tugged the heart and, by the time she finished people had been trying to hum along with her. The next song was totally different. The words were harsh sounding and urgent. It had the sound of a march and the small man beat time on a drum, not very well. It was obvious that he was only learning.
The Kharl was singing along loudly. By the time that song finished many of the Dwarves were also singing along in Dwarven, using words that sounded something like the chorus but, from the broad smile playing on the face of the Kharl, almost certainly were not related. As they played, the small man’s eyes kept scanning the room the whole time.
She looked to be in charge, but he might be the more dangerous of the two.
Again the girl sang in the fair language. This time it sounded very sad, and again tugged at his heart even if he could not understand the words, and it was very long. Old Thorgrim, the best mage in town, obviously knew the tongue. He was staring blindly at the girl and tears were running down the crevices of his cheeks to get lost in his beard. Who would have thought that he had even a single tear in him? These were the songs of the world outside. Why wasn’t it possible for him to go to these places and hear the people talk these tongues?
After a bit more time sitting and drinking the bitter beer, Thord could became Thord would in his head. By the time everyone was ready to pack up for the night, Thord had made plans.
It was easy for Thord to find his parents. They, along with most of Kharlsbane’s people, had drifted in to the inn to see the rare excitement. Thord went over and let them know what it was that he wanted to do. His mother didn’t want Thord to go, but his father thought that a young Dwarf should see the world before settling down to responsibility. Thord smiled. He knew what would come next. In his youth, his father had reminisced, even with The Burning raging he had left his home and visited all three of the surviving Dwarven areas, even going to the mountains far away to the southwest across the plains. Once his father had said this, his mother glared. Thord left his parents ‘discussing’ the matter while he went to pack. For once his father would surely prevail in this discussion. After all, it was while he was away on his travels that he had found Thord’s mother.
~~~
It was late in the crisp morning before Thord woke, later still by the time goodbyes had been said to the family and neighbours and his sheep, Hillclimber, was led down to the inn. There Thord discovered that the pair that he wanted to follow out into the world had left some little time before. Scrambling onto Hillclimber, Thord trotted briskly out between the carved gate towers of the town, waving goodbye to family and friends, and setting out on the long road to adventure.
Chapter VIII
In the morning light, after saying goodbye to Habib and Kraznik, Theodora and Basil parted company with them. The trader and his guard had a return to the south down the flank of the mountains and into Darkreach ahead of them. For the first time in quite a while Theodora felt clean. Basil had gotten their travel clothes cleaned overnight and they even smelled fresh and faintly herbal; eucalypt certainly, but other plants as well. Everything was almost as good as it had been new and felt nice to put on.
Theodora allowed Basil to take the lead as they left the village. They headed west to cross the Methul River on the ancient long stone bridge that was just visible ahead across fields and through the trees. She had checked everything on her map as she dressed. Once they had left behind this last bridge the river wandered to the north and eventually arrived at the cold sea at Wolfneck. The road that she was riding on was more definitely a road than the one that she had entered Kharlsbane by. Their horse’s hooves made little noise on the firm, dirt that was packed down by generations of regular travel. Very little dust rose to mark their passage and what was there soon settled.
They were well on the way and Basil was already checking all around them when Basil had her glance back. Coming out of the village, now far to the rear of them, was a Dwarf mounted on the strangest animal that she had ever seen. It looked like a sheep, but not the kind of sheep that normal shepherds would want to see anywhere near their flocks. For a start it stood nearly as tall as a small pony. Its rider was making it move along smartly as if to catch them and now Theodora could see that it had the same sort of horns that a normal ram would have, except that these were clad in metal. On its brow was borne a metal chamfron with a spike coming forward. As it came even closer she could see that the eyes on the beast had a malevolent cast, as do those of many wild rams, and its head in its armour resembled some form of demented unicorn. It had the thick, coarse, and matted fleece of a wild sheep, pulled down around its waist by a saddle and girth.
Hurrying up to them its rider held up his hand. “I am T’ord t’ Shepherd,” the Dwarf said in a heavily accented Hindi, addressing Basil.
Theodora looked at the sight before her and thought that if that was the case she was not sure that she wanted to see the rest of the flock. Her nose wrinkled. Now that it was beside her Theodora noted that the sheep smelt strongly as well—she wasn’t that familiar with live sheep, but that must be what old greasy wool smelt like.
Thord continued, “I ha’ long wanted to see more of t’ world. Last night, listening to you,” he nodded towards her now, “I made up my mind to go with you. I ha’ consulted with my family and t’ey’re not agin my plan.”
How different he is to me, thought Theodora.
“I don’t a know where you’re a going, but I want to go with you. ’ll you take me with you?”
Basil looked at her. She thought it would sometimes be nice if his face gave some clue as to how he thought. The Dw
arf followed his gaze. Theodora thought for a while after the request.
“Why don’t you go with Habib?” she asked. “He wants a guard and will pay you well. He is going back into Darkreach where few outsiders have been and he will come back here again.”
“I’ve t’ought of ’at,” said the Dwarf, replying with a serious tone, “but with t’ money ’at he made here, he’ll do this trip for so long he’ll have a home at both ends. He’ll be like migrating bird, always travelling, but always seeing t’ same sights. I t’ink t’at I be fated to see more of t’ Land ’an ’at. I want to see flat lands ’n’ jungle ’n’ t’ ocean. Can I join you?” he asked eagerly. “I can take orders ’n’ am used to outdoor life ’n’ Hillclimber,” he patted the giant sheep, “’n’ I work well together.” He looked from her to Basil.
He seemed to be unsure which of them was the leader. Theodora looked the Dwarf over again. He, she presumed that he was male, she had heard that one never knew with this race, was clad in mail. He had a long handled war-hammer at his side, a round shield on his back and a recurve bow and two bristling quivers of arrows graced the sheep’s flanks in top of well-worn saddlebags. Who had ever heard of a sheep archer before? This close she could sense he had items of magical interest on him. His armour had a charm on it, quite a strong one she thought, as did his hammer.
“Very well,” she said. “I am Salimah and this is Basil. I won’t promise you anything after Evilhalt, but you may travel with us until then as long as you do what you are told.” The Dwarf nodded in agreement and wheeled his mount and formed up to cover their rear. Basil now moved well away to look ahead. She noticed that he kept checking back.
~~~
Theodora could see that the road they followed towards the southwest was better made and flatter than the one to the south of Kharlsbane, but she thought that the plants around it were the same and the animals she saw looked the same. They saw glimpses of deer and rabbit and even the occasional giant lizard browsing on treetops or shrubs. Thord wanted to hunt. Theodora said, “Unless you need food, there is no need to kill and it will slow us down.”
Thord had looked disappointed, but he obeyed without question.
Theodora had been thinking about what came next all through the day. When they reached a campsite for the night she asked Thord if he could gather some firewood away from the camp as she had something she needed to say to Basil. Thord looked from one to the other before finally nodding and telling them not to go near Hillclimber as they may be attacked. He then went over to his pack and unstrapped a small hand-axe before moving away.
Theodora waited until the sound of his axe could be heard. She turned to Basil.
“I am going to trust you with a secret,” she finally said. “Even if you decide to leave me afterwards…” she held up a hand to forestall Basil saying anything, “I ask that you tell no one voluntarily.” She paused. “I am in disguise and am not what I seem.” Again she paused.
Again she wished Basil’s face gave something away of what he was thinking. She continued. “It is true that I am a mage, and I am not entirely Human, but the rest of my makeup is not a Kharl heritage. Most of my story is made up. This will explain much.” She reached to her ear and removed the amulet that hung there, allowing her eyes to turn to their normal dark luminous golden colour and her hair to turn raven black. For once Basil’s face showed expression. His eyes widened and he looked a little surprised. He started to bow until she stopped him. “My name is not Salimah, but Theodora. As you can see, I am from the Imperial family and I felt the need to run away from home. I was once worried that the Granther, sorry Hrothnog, sent those Wights to stop me, but I don’t think so now.” She paused again. “Knowing what you now know, do you still want to stay with me?”
“It is every servant’s ambition to directly serve the Imperial family,” he declared proudly.
She felt a wash of relief as he continued.
“If you will still have me, I will be honoured to serve you.”
Theodora had not realised how worried she was that Basil might decline to stay with her. She now felt a tremendous relief and lightness. She knew that she needed her practical servant and, what was more, while she still felt she wanted to leave it all behind; while he was with her she felt that she had not entirely abandoned her home.
“I suggest we tell Thord you have just run away from an arranged marriage at home. You had your eyes and hair disguised as they are your most noticeable feature and part of the description that your father would send out.” Basil paused. “Milady, are you really a Kataphractoi as well as a mage, or is that also part of your disguise? I need to know this.”
“No, it is not disguise,” she said. “All of our family train in at least two areas. Remember that I have training as a bard as well. After all,” she concluded bitterly, “you have to have something to do to fill in the time when there is nothing useful that you can do. I may look young, but I am over one hundred years old.” Basil again looked surprised. “Please though, do not call me ‘Milady’. I said to call me by my name. I still want you to.”
“Yes Sal—Theodora,” replied Basil. “Now, let us set up camp.”
By the time Thord returned to camp the horses were unsaddled and hobbled and Basil had a fire going. Theodora gave Thord the explanation that Basil had suggested and, although Thord was startled by the change in her appearance, and particularly the colour of her eyes, it was obvious that he did not realise their significance and seemed to accept them.
That night Theodora took the first watch, then Thord, and finally Basil, who could then start breakfast while he finished his shift. The night was a little bit chilly, although uneventful, and the colder weather, along with the unfamiliar stirrings and noises in the bush, kept them alert. Theodora had no trouble at all sleeping with her boots on tonight. They kept her feet much warmer.
~~~
Five days of uneventful and fast travel followed. On the third day Theodora allowed Thord to kill a deer as their supply of meat was running low. The deer had fled as soon as it saw them, a sign that people were well known around here. Thord proved skilled as an archer and his strange mount showed itself to be agile in the forest. On the fourth day they passed a caravan of light carts heading the other way.
“Food coming up to our towns,” explained Thord. “We give ’em metal ’n’ gems ’n’ t’ey give us dried, smoked ’n’ pickled foods—’n’ especial fish.” They exchanged greetings with the traders, all of them Human, as two groups in passing do, and both moved on without pause. On the end of the fifth day they saw ahead of them the river with the small keep nearly across it that marked the ford that led across to Evilhalt.
Chapter IX
A polite invitation to take kaf with the Princess Miriam, brought to you by a well-dressed and deferential slave with a guard, is not one you can easily refuse. As she went, thoughts whirled through Ayesha’s head. The princess was—indirectly at least—her patron, even if she had never met her before. Ayesha knew that the princess had argued against the traditions of the Caliphate that restricted her sex and had said that more use should be made of its women.
That caused the tongues to wag and some of the older and more conservative men to rant and rail against it. She had heard them talking angrily to her father on the subject. That the princess had been able to do this was only possible because of the ambiguity of her position due to her foreign birth outside of the mountains, her diplomatic marriage into the Caliph’s family and her ability as a mage. That she was the granddaughter, or something—no one seemed sure exactly what, of the ruler of the vast empire to the east didn’t hurt either. Even the most zealous Mullahs were reluctant to disturb the recently made peace with Darkreach by calling her a blasphemer.
All knew that a new prosperity was blowing through the Caliphate and now the blood of its sons need no longer run as freely as it once did to keep the Caliphate independent. Now the Dar al-salaam, the house of peace, could grow as the time when over half
of all men died in Al-jihad al-Akbar, the Great Struggle, was finished—at least for now. It could, after all, be only a pause.
Ayesha’s current life was partly as a result of this—an experiment of sorts. At sixteen she was the first fully-fledged female religious soldier in a culture where most prosperous adult women were kept secluded and seen only by their relatives. Despite the opposition of several of her teachers she had taken the vows and was now pledged to serve the Faith and the Caliph as its voice, to the death in any capacity that was demanded of her as a Ghazi, a Holy Warrior. Apart from that she was free to act as she willed—including the right to freely move about the Caliphate and beyond. This right was something that few women had, especially high born ones such as her.
She had always wanted to break out of the restrictions imposed on her as a woman by custom. Now she had done it.
So it came to pass that Ayesha was now being led through the palace by a female servant. She had to resist the urge to stop and stare at the rich carpets on the walls and the marvellous mosaics and carved plaster around them and on the ceilings. Her senses were open however. Cool marble under foot, occasional scents of sandalwood, of orange and rose, deferential servants. She was in the Alhambra; the palace.
Everyone in the Caliphate had seen beautiful carpets and prayer rugs, there were many in her parent’s home, but the ones here were marvellous and beyond compare. She was led past the public rooms and through a pair of huge bronze doors guarded by grim-faced men, one of whom she recognised from training. They exchanged greetings by a finger language as she was taken through the door.
There was an immediate change in the atmosphere. Even more than before, her nose was soothed by the smell of rose, orange, and other scents and the furnishings became even more luxurious, if that were possible. The sound of small children and women’s voices told her where she was. She felt her feet disappearing in rugs that now covered the floor as well as the walls. She heard songbirds trilling in cages. Small tables of precious woods and polished brass stood around. Cushions of silk could be seen in rooms to the side through rich hangings. Servants moved silently.
Intimations of Evil (Warriors of Vhast Book 1) Page 9
