Avenger’s Rest — G’koal, Empress of Enterra has the Scabbard.
Quartal — the ore needed to smith the sword together is found only in the Realm of Yartraak, God of Darkness.
Brought together by one who is worthy, they shall form Praelior, the Champion’s Sword.
Vara was seated by herself in a corner, quartered away, allowing Cyrus to study her unobserved. Her nose came to a point, accenting the regal bearing of her face. Her pointed elven ears were behind her blond hair, which was hanging free for the first time since he’d met her. Instead of her armor, she wore a cloth shirt and pants that, while seated, clung tightly to her. She was very fit; Cyrus could tell.
Andren leaned over to Cyrus. “Taking a closer look at our resident ice princess?” Cyrus didn’t look away from Vara. He whispered, “If you keep staring at her like that, she’s likely to feel the heat of your intentions and burst into flames — round about her groin.” Cy averted his eyes and turned back to the group. Narstron was laughing quietly.
Andren looked at him with pity. “You have something for elven women? Was your wife an elf?”
Cyrus blushed. “No, she was human.”
“Wouldn’t have surprised me if she was an elf.” Andren sighed. “More elven women marrying human men these days than elven ones.” His eyes cast downward. “Makes it a bit difficult on the rest of us.” He refocused on Cyrus. “Why didn’t we ever meet your wife? I know you saw her not that long ago. Afraid to bring her to our old digs?”
A flash of memory hit Cyrus, and the words his former wife had spoken drifted to his mind unbidden. “You cling to your friends because you have nowhere else to go and nothing to do with your life.” His teeth gritted at the memory. “Showing her our guildhall was not going to impress her,” he said, controlling his emotions.
“See? That’s why you should date a dwarven woman, if you could find one not taken by a dwarven man,” Narstron shot at Andren, who looked away. “Dwarven women found our old guildhall quite homey. It’s so dark in the slums that it’s like being underground.” The dwarf smiled at the memory.
“Oh please,” Andren dismissed him. “Are you going to talk about that wench from the slums bar again? She had a bit more flesh than it took to cover her bones, if you take my meaning.”
“Aye, that’s how I like them,” Narstron said. “Anyway, she didn’t mind being in there, even with you lot snoring away.”
“Oy, that explains certain night noises.” Andren grimaced. “I’m going to meet some new people,” the healer said as he stood up and walked away.
“I have to go sit in my quarters and clean my brain out with my sword,” Cyrus excused himself. He took one last sidelong glance at the table where Vara sat reading and reflected that he had no interest in meeting new people but wanted to understand one he’d already met.
When he returned to his room he found an envelope on the bed. It said, in very simple lettering:
You are chosen to go to Enterra. — Orion
11
The next day dawned bright and sunny, but by midday the promise of its glory was cut short by rain that had by dinner turned into a thunderstorm.
“Fortunately, we don’t have to travel in that.” Narstron laughed with relief. He and Andren had gotten the same invitation as Cyrus. If not for teleportation spells, Enterra was several months journey. Instead, a druid would transport them directly to the southern edge of the Mountains of Nartanis, only a few hours hike from Enterra’s entrance.
Cyrus looked across the crowd and found Brevis and his cronies laughing about something. Orion was talking quietly to Selene, who was unable to conceal a smile. Curatio, J’anda, Nyad, Vaste, and Niamh were scattered throughout the crowd but Cyrus found more curious those who were absent. Alaric was nowhere to be seen, nor was Terian or Larana. Vara was also missing, he thought, but then caught sight of her entering from a nearby doorway.
“Vara!” Brevis called out to her. “You should come with me.”
She continued walking. “No, I don’t think so.”
“What does it take,” he sauntered up to her, looking her straight in the knees, “to get some time together, just you and me?”
She halted forward progress, turning back with a frown. “I have no interest in one-on-one time with you, gnome, and I have told you this many, many times. Should you continue to persist in your incessant innuendo, I will personally kill you and have Larana turn your corpse into a weapons rack for my quarters. That way, every day, I can draw my sword from one of your orifices,” she concluded as the gnome blanched. “Would that qualify as some ‘time together’?”
Laughter echoed through the hall as Vara turned on her heel and resumed her course out the door.
Niamh materialized next to them. “Hi, guys,” she greeted them. “Everybody stick close: we’re going to be taking off in just a second. Squeeze in; druid teleportation spells don’t reach out nearly as far as a wizard’s,” she said.
She murmured a few words under her breath and the winds picked up, just as they had in Ashan’agar’s den, and soon Cyrus felt his feet touch the ground again. The strong smell of sulphur wrinkled his nose and he looked down to the ash and black dirt then raised his gaze up to the horizon. Volcanic rock was everywhere — streams of lava poured forth from volcanoes, pooling in lakes of magma. Drakes flew across the sky in the distance. Cy looked around him as whirlwind after whirlwind deposited Sanctuary’s army upon the volcanic soil of the Mountains of Nartanis.
Cyrus found it hard to believe that days before he had been standing in the same place, on the way to Ashan’agar’s den. Looking to the east, he knew the entrance to that cavern was in the distance and shuddered at the thought of what might have happened had Sanctuary not been there.
Once the army was assembled they began their trek. The gnomes and dwarves scrambled to keep up while the humans and elves had to put forth very little effort to keep pace. No one had brought horses, knowing that they would be venturing underground.
After a few hours they left the volcanic foothills and found themselves navigating around the edge of a crater. They approached a keep built into the side of a gargantuan mountain, gates built over a cave entrance with goblins walking the walls and manning the entrances. Cyrus had not seen goblins before. Between three to five feet in height, they were a sort of gaunt, squat, green and scaly creature with fearsome teeth. Their large ears drooped over their skulls.
They halted at the cover of the crater’s edge. Orion addressed the groups quietly. “We meet the Alliance inside the gates. Remember, stealth is our primary concern. There is an area inside the entrance where we’ll be forming up. Our spell casters will cast invisibility spells on the warriors and rangers, then on themselves and we will move to the rendezvous point. Remember, invisibility can be an unstable spell, so move through the gates quickly.”
“Why always inside the gates?” Cyrus muttered.
Orion signaled and Cy watched as one by one the army disappeared. He muted his own cry of shock as Niamh cast a spell on him and his hand and sword vanished. “It’s okay, Cy, hold on.” Her next spell made it seem as though a veil had been lifted from his eyes — everyone reappeared, although they looked faded, as though they were in a heavy mist.
Orion signaled the move after everyone had been made invisible and they walked through the gates, prompting a puzzled look from a nearby goblin who heard something but trusted his eyes. Cy continued to walk even after he had lost sight of where he was going in the dark, and he suddenly felt one of his feet meet empty air where he had thought there would be rock.
He fell forward, arms rushing out to cushion his fall, trying to roll out of it. He hit the ground a few feet later with a crash of armor on stone. He heard laughter all around him, and felt a hand reach into his and pull him to his feet. The hand was soft, gentle, but not without calluses. A lightness crept through his eyes akin to the sensation J’anda had created when he helped Cyrus see in Kortran.
An elven woman had
helped him up. She was pretty and short, with a bow slung across her back, tangled in her long brown hair. He could now see in the darkness of the cave around them. Dirt walls led off into the distance, and a few people sat around waiting.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Yes.” What is it with all these pretty elves? “Nothing bruised but my massive arse and my bigger ego.” He blinked. “Who cast the spell on me? I can see now.”
“It was me,” Vaste said from behind him. “I was afraid you’d fall into me, and frankly I’m not sure I could support your ‘massive ego’ since I’m too busy carrying your arse.”
She laughed, a lovely sound, like a wind chime. “I’m Elisabeth, from the Daring.” She looked past him. “Hi, Vaste.” The troll nodded as he passed them.
“Pleased to meet you. I’m Cyrus Davidon, with Sanctuary.”
She laughed again. “Nice to meet you. Hi, Curatio!” She waved past him. Curatio made his way over and they hugged. “Good to see you again!”
Cyrus looked around. The Sanctuary force had settled in for a break after their long hike. Curatio and Orion exchanged greetings with Elisabeth as others trickled over and joined them. Doing a quick head count, he only saw about two dozen people waiting.
“Cyrus, this is Cass Ward from the Daring.” Cyrus smirked at the warrior that joined them, a hulking human with armor painted grey. Catching the look exchanged between the two of them, Orion remarked, “Do you know each other?”
Cass answered first. “I would never claim to know this disgusting and uncivilized barbarian, who gives warriors of the Reikonos Society of Arms a bad name,” his voice dripping with a sort of mocking sarcasm.
“Nor would I ever claim to be affiliated with this boasting heap of horse dung.” Cyrus’s repartee was just a bit slower getting out. “Yes, we know each other — no we don’t hate each other. Cass and I were friendly rivals. We started at the Society of Arms at the same time, went through warrior training together.” Looking sidelong for a reaction, he continued, “He’s just never gotten over the fact that I am, in fact, a much better warrior — and much better looking — than he could ever claim to be—”
“Hardly!” Cass cut him off. Dropping the mocking tone, he finished Cyrus’s thought. “We’ve always had a grudging respect for each other.” A pause. “Well, he’s always had a grudging respect for me… I always thought he was as useless as an empty keg of ale…” His reply left Cyrus shaking his head but smiling back slyly.
Cass turned his attention to Orion. “We have about thirty here tonight. It was the best we could field at this point.”
Orion chewed his lip. “I appreciate your help, Cass. Goliath should be able to compensate for that.”
A voice broke in, feminine, abrasive, and straight to the point. “Goliath will not be attending tonight.” Cyrus caught sight of the owner of the voice as she edged closer. It was a female dark elf wearing the light robes and lettered shawl given to healers by the Healer’s Union when they finished their training.
Curatio smiled, ignoring the poor tidings. “As always, it’s a pleasure to see you, Erith Frostmoor.”
The dark elf acknowledged Curatio’s greeting. “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Orion.” Her face wore a distasteful expression, as though the words she was speaking had soured within her lips.
Orion’s jaw dropped. His head swiveled between Elisabeth, Cass and Erith. “Where’s your Guildmaster, Partus?”
Erith exchanged a quick glance with Cass and Elisabeth. “Partus and most of our more experienced adventurers decided to part ways with those of us who wanted to make the Daring a great guild. They took about seventy-five percent of our number and left to join Goliath.”
Orion looked stunned. “They have the largest force in this Alliance… and they aren’t coming?”
Erith shook her head at Orion’s last inquiry. “The forces of Goliath are fully occupied in a march through the Ashen Wastelands.”
Curatio’s low whistle broke the group out of a moment’s silence. “They would dare to march through the dragon homeland?”
Erith nodded. “They’ve made the decision to kill dragonkin in order to ally themselves with the titans of Kortran.”
Cyrus shook his head in amazement. Why would anyone ever voluntarily align themselves with the titans of Kortran? Madness, he thought.
“They have some considerable wealth — perhaps unique armors and weapons as well.” Curatio shrugged, but his voice sounded hollow.
Erith shook her head in annoyance. “If that’s your price for being a servant of Emperor Razeel, then start begging now.” A pause emphasized her point. “Goliath will be killing dragonkin for the next three months before they’ll even be allowed into the city of Kortran to begin talking peace with the titan envoys.”
During this exchange, Orion was feverishly plotting, strain visible on his face. “We can still do this. We were planning to rely on stealth — now it’s just more urgent than ever with less than half the force we planned.”
“Why don’t we just cast invisibility on our entire force and sneak down?” Cyrus asked.
“The goblins will have guard checkpoints set up — they’ll have the ability to see through invisibility spells, so it won’t matter,” Curatio said. “Invisibility is only for short distances.”
Orion nodded. “We’ll need a screening force to take down sentries, and we’ll focus our attacks on the guard points.” He nodded, almost to himself in affirmation. “This will still work; we’ll just need to keep a tight formation. And, J’anda,” he shouted, turned to the enchanter, who appeared from out of the crowd, looking very human today. “You’ll need to be especially on guard. We’ll put the warriors out front to occupy the goblins and give each a dedicated healer and support force.” He nodded to himself again. “This will work.”
“I can certainly keep quite a few of them contained,” J’anda said, “but I am uncertain about the abilities of the other enchanters to ensnare more than one mind at a time. It is…” he paused, looking for a diplomatic way to state his point, “…complex, keeping more than one enemy confounded at a time.”
If Cass was skeptical he kept it to himself. “I have full faith in your plans, Orion. I only wish we had more support to offer you, but the full might of the Daring stands ready. Which warriors will you choose for this excursion?” He gestured to himself in what Cyrus thought to be an overly dramatic fashion.
“You will be one of the three.” Cyrus caught a tone of appeasement in Orion’s voice. He was a little too enthusiastic in agreement with his ally. “Narstron and Cyrus from Sanctuary can be the other two, unless anyone else has a candidate to put forward?”
Cyrus was surprised. He knew there were other warriors in Sanctuary with longer tenure than he and Narstron. He looked at Orion and nodded with a confidence he didn’t feel. “We won’t let you down.”
Over the next few minutes they broke the force into support groups, centered on the warriors. Cy found himself in a group with Elisabeth, J’anda, Niamh and with Erith as his healer. “Nice to meet you, Erith. I’m Cyrus Davidon.”
She smiled humorlessly. “You’ve healed one warrior, you’ve healed them all. Try not to make my job hard by doing anything stupid — like, say, getting yourself killed.”
“Well, ma’am, I can promise you I’m going to try not to die.”
“Try very hard.” She stopped smiling. “I don’t know the resurrection spell, so if you die, you’re not coming back.” She reared her hand back and slapped him on the backside. “Now get in there and fight.”
He looked in disbelief at the healer, but she didn’t crack a smile. Almost positive that she wasn’t serious, but not eager to test the theory, he walked forward with the lead element of the army as they began their descent into the caves.
“I need a ranger out front,” Orion called out. “One who’s good at stealth.”
Elisabeth raised her hand, slight smile on her face. “I’ve never been accused of being snea
ky, but I have been known to disappear stealthily from time to time.”
Orion did not return her smile, clearly frazzled. “I need you to sneak down the tunnel and scout the goblin defensive positions. Get their attention, bring them to us one at a time if possible, or in small groups.” Elisabeth nodded with some enthusiasm. “If you run across a checkpoint, leave it be; we’ll attack it as a group.”
Elisabeth melted into the shadows of the cave, and even with his improved vision, Cyrus could not see her. She soon returned with three goblins — Cyrus attacked the first, slashing his sword into the scaled flesh. His group jumped into the action a moment later and the beast was hit with fire, ice, a small bolt of lightning that seemed to originate from midair, and a great many blades. It died within seconds, having never had a chance to do anything but stab at Cyrus once with its claws, drawing blood through a gap in his armor.
He heard Erith’s voice behind him. “You’re only getting three mending spells for the entire invasion, so you’d better pace yourself.” He looked back as he felt a healing wind on his arm as the spell took hold and saw her holding up her finger. “That’s one!” Irritated, he held up a finger of his own, and she was beset by a case of the giggles. “That’s two! I’d be careful, if I were you!”
They proceeded down the tunnel, Elisabeth bringing goblins to them a few at a time. They ignored side tunnels as Orion guided them down following a very worn map. They passed through areas of dirt and rock tunnels, and into areas of carved and intricate stonework, clearly built with incredible engineering skill. They alternated between action and boredom; long minutes would pass with no sign of the ranger, and then she would appear bringing groups of goblins in quick succession. None of their foes had a chance to run and their shouts did not attract others.
As they descended, a far-off chatter filled the air.
“It’s the city,” Narstron said. “Goblins are awfully loud, aren’t they?”
“Sounds like your snores,” Andren said under his breath.
Magic, Myth & Majesty: 7 Fantasy Novels Page 8
