Garoa sank behind the wall, and Asnea followed.
"What is it?" she asked.
He shook his head and put his finger to his closed lips. She nodded and continued to listen.
The Order Hand pointed to the Lord of Tar Mena, "Lord Utros, know that your reign is nigh over, but we leave you now. My friends here shall be taking your men that took arms against us. Our guest here has need of them."
The ethereal form nodded and bowed, fading from view as did Kasis and the other Dark Ones.
The legionnaires went around to where guards had dropped around the area and threw their bodies atop the carriage, tying them with a rope.
Lord Utros shook his fist at them and shouted, "You will not remain in power, deceivers!"
The Order Hand shrugged. "We are done here."
He pushed Sviska in the chest.
"Put that rabble at the back of the cart and have him walk. He needs to learn his place once more."
He then paused, staring at the items that they had taken from Sviska.
"It seems as if fate is with us this day. I will take that book and scabbard off your hands."
He smiled widely as he placed his hands over the Galhedriss Arcana. "It seems the Lord of the Estate's failure has come to pass."
The legionnaires took Sviska to the rear of the cart and bound his hands to it; they both snickered as they went back to formation. Sviska looked up to see The Order Hand holding the book. Tapping it with his fingers, he climbed into the carriage.
The driver closed the door and took his place, picking up the reigns and clicking the horses forward. He circled around the Lord of Tar Mena and began back to the center of the city and toward the gates.
Those that were unconscious began to awake, stumbling and falling over one another as the carriage of The Order and the Legions left the city. Lord Utros stood motionless.
"Secure the city," he said at last. "Be watchful. I do not trust any of what has transpired."
Garoa and Asnea began out from the place they had hid. Sliding under some low beams of a storage area, they emerged in an alleyway that led to the center of the city.
"We need to go."
Garoa nodded and followed her out of the main gates and down the road at a quickened pace. Those that had taken Sviska were no longer in sight.
Asnea said, "If we are to get him back, you must trust me, as well as trust those I take you to. It is our best chance to know what to do."
"We must help him," Garoa told her. "It is because of me he came here under protest. I am responsible for him."
"He was to kill a baby? What kind of man is he?"
"He had no choice, but he did not do it. He is against the Grand Protectorate."
"Then he will find many friends in these regions, if he can survive his capture."
The road went south some ways, and Asnea took them off the dirt path and through a green field. Tall trees stood before them, much taller than even the ones surrounding the vale. A rocky road, known only by few and used by fewer, forgotten in time, led that way.
Through the lower range of the mountains, they followed the old trading road carved by the dwarves long ago. Leaves and rocks covered the path, and even though many years had passed, grand bridges with smoothed sides and blocky designs had been untouched by time, their artisanship beyond that of the current days.
Following back south, they crossed a valley between fields overgrown with mushrooms of different colors. A river snaked through, frequented by animals of all kind seeking a cool drink and the shade of the larger white mushrooms that grew on the banks of the waterway.
They jumped over the stream, and a hare that was drinking was startled and fled into the thick bushes ahead of them.
"We have crossed into the protected lands. We have no fear of attack past these trees," she told him.
Into the woods they went, deeper and deeper. A large stone archway overgrown in vines passed over them, and they came to a series of steps that went up the side of a stone structure.
"These were once dwarven lands. You will find structures like this all over,” she told him.
He nodded but it was not his first time he had been in these woods though he admittedly had never went this deep.
Upon reaching the top of the stairwell, a man appeared.
He was tall and wore the same garb as Asnea. His bow was at his side, and he had no thought to grab it seeing Garoa.
"Asnea, you bring a stranger here?" he asked her.
"Yes, he is a stranger, but not as you might guess."
The man nodded, "Welcome to the realm of the Leechers."
Garoa gave a slight bow, but of what to make of the other man, or understanding what Asnea had brought him to, he did not know.
Chapter 13 Journey into Harrodarr
The morning came quickly, or it felt like it did to Slats. He opened his eyes to a firm push on his shoulder to see Euso hovering above him. The sky behind was still dark, but there was a glow of light in the clouds.
Berie stood and looked out from the ruins.
"Storms are coming from the seas,” she said.
There was thunder in the distance, and cold winds blew in.
Euso offered Slats some food, but he refused. Gathering himself up, he followed the others back down to the stone road and began the ascent into the mountains.
Down either side of the road flowed the two rivers, their paths snaking down between rocks breaking in small waterfalls as they fell.
They trudged upward, avoiding broken stairwells and soft spots of ice yet to melt from the rising sun. The clouds behind rolled in, and the flashes of lightning pushed them at an ever-increasing pace as they made it to the halfway point on the mountain stairwells.
In the large open area, they found a place that had a good view of the valley. As they took time to catch their breath, Berie kicked through broken pottery and took notice of a peculiar, dark red mark on the stone.
Slats looked out upon the valley. “T’was black as night the fields that day,” he said.
“What?” Euso asked.
“When I left Harrodarr as a child, the field was blackened with battle scars, as my brethren fought to stem the advance of our aggressors. Dark times.”
Looking closer, Berie noticed there was more of the red. It was blood. She followed it around the stairwell and noticed a glint of armor and a white hand hanging out from under a sackcloth.
She knelt down and looked at the body. It had not been there for more than a day. She took hold of the arm and tried to move it, but found it stiff. Euso and Slats came up behind her.
"What is it?" Euso asked.
"One of the Legions. But he has been dead for quite a while. His skin is white and his arm stiff."
"The Legions were here?"
"It doesn't matter," Slats said. "I know the dwarves would have a trap or two to stop unwanted intrusions. They would not have been able to get very far inside, and if they have, they will not leave."
The dwarf began around to the back to the stairwell, ahead of the rest. Euso and Berie followed.
Jumping multiple steps at a time, he ascended upwards. Coming to flat ground and an open expanse jutting into rocks, he looked up at towering cliffs. Great trees grew upon the summit, their branches reaching over the recessed rock and blotting out the storm clouds that were now upon them.
Slats felt a deep pride looking up the cliffs. The sheer walls of the mountains looked down at them with dark portals of black, long-left dormant with the passing of the dwarven torch lighters who would have brought flame to speckle the sheer cliffs in light when a great host would have returned from afar. He was at the place of his people after many years away.
From an unseen height above, the sources of the rivers going down the stairwell fell into a pool at the opposite side of them. The river wrapped around one side of a large building sitting in the center.
The structure in the center of the clearing, crowned with a tower featuring three spikes in a circle, was ominou
s and of nothing that the new world had. Slats noticed that, strangely, it was not sealed. As they ascended the small stairwell that led into a covered entryway, the door rested open, and forcefully so. Bent poles and splintered lumber lay around the place, and it was not a feat done too long ago. The broken wood appeared fresh.
They pushed the door open further and entered. The immediate dark path flashed white from the lightning behind them. Briefly, Slats caught the sight of fallen green branches strewn at the doorway, cut through by blades of some sort.
"I had never heard of my brethren using such plant life around our homes,” he said. “The trees outside atop the cliffs were one thing, but these vines are large and not likely placed by accident."
"Did you not say that there may be traps?" Euso asked.
"Yes, but dwarven traps are of things us dwarf like: stones, earth. To be as honest as I may, It would not have been green things."
"I agree, Slats," Berie said, "I have never heard of a dwarven cave that had such growing life."
Euso rummaged in his pack and found unlit torches, as well as lighting stones. After a few good cracks, they managed to light a torch that, in turn, they used to light the others.
The rain began to come down hard outside. The sudden downpour propelled them toward the deeper bowels of the mountain.
The path twisted down for a good while. There were little adornments. Slats stopped twice to check an item left on the floor, but both times threw it back down as a mere trinket.
Continuing on they came to a lower level with high walls and ceilings. The torches they had gave little light to the regions around them, but from the echo of their steps, it was clear they were in a massive room. Traversing through was limited. The cracked ground in many places made careful movements an unfortunate need. Rubble lay around, blocking the pathway through archways adorned in dwarven metals and precious stones still affixed to pillars.
However, a definite path lay ahead; it was clear someone had come before them. There was a distinct lack of grime on the stones. Boot prints of at least twenty men had to have come this way also, but not quite as many seemed to have returned.
"Do we even know what we are looking for, Slats?"
"A central location, an arch room, or so it was called. It would have been a storehouse of information. I cannot guess where it may be. I was not of age to know of its location, but something will push us that way, that I feel."
The room began to tremble and the three stopped, glancing around. The shaking stopped as quickly as it had begun.
"Dwarf, I fear this place not to be the safest in the world," Euso commented, "and I say that with respect for dwarven building skill."
"Dwarven architecture is the best, that I assure you!"
“No doubt — I have made my way into many old dwarven places, but this place just does not seem safe.”
It was then a series of stones fell from above, smashing a large pillar to their right. It collapsed and toppled over.
Euso and Berie both looked to Slats.
"As you said, the best, sure," Euso told him.
Slats shook his head. "This way," he said, and pointed toward where the archway had fallen to provide a bridge over the rubble and to another area.
"And what do you feel now?" Euso said. "To show us further wreckage? There is nothing in this place save more wreckage."
The dwarf hastened his climb up the rubble and ran along the pillar, followed by Berie and then Euso. There was a large doorway in the side of the mountain. This one, too, led to a path that went deeper. As they entered this lower chamber, they found flickering torches dwindling with the last of their fuel.
There was a large staff in the center of the room, as well as etchings on the floor. Upon closer examination, it was clear the staff was a statue of sorts, and the floor was a large map of the lands of the world.
To the far side of the room, a bookshelf lay ransacked. Slats immediately went to a long stone table that ran along the edge of the room and began looking at documents and open pages of a book.
"These torches did not light themselves," Berie advised.
"I am sure you are right, but that just means we must be extra quick to learn what we can," Slats replied.
"Except, that what we search for may have already been taken," Euso suggested.
Slats looked up, in thought, but then returned to his reading.
Berie looked at the edge of the room and noticed that there were three stone sculptures looking out to the doorway. She walked across the room toward them and saw that they were dwarves, sculptures of uncanny realism.
Euso noticed the floor. An obscure etching on a small plaque near where the staff lay.
Etha.
"Does the name 'Etha' mean anything to the two of you?"
"No," Slats said.
Berie jerked to look toward him. "Etha was a priestess god of the elves. Why do you ask?"
"There is a stone here by this staff. ‘Etha’ is all it says."
Berie looked at the staff, but could not see of what importance it could hold. She said, "Etha was believed to not hold a staff, from my recollection. She wore a necklace of the color of a fiery sunrise, but no staff. She ruled over balance and renewal in the world, but I know not of her faith at the time of the great wars."
"Okay!" Slats shouted. "I believe I found something. This parchment reads of an alliance called the Hasten Truce. It talks of the end of magic and the flight to a city of safety prepared in the mountains."
"Elinathrond," Berie said.
"Yes, but it talks also of the god Etha and her being the key to sealing away magic. It also says we require the Dwarven Hand, as we knew, but that for its safety it went with the Armies to the south. It reads as this:
'In the times then came the clans of the Elven and Dwarven Nation, together, from the far west to the holy mountain keep of Harrodarr. There with the god they were made, Hand and Solace Stone, and Solace was to be with the tree folk and the Hand, the dwarves, but in these days came war.
The official parchment stops there, but continues on in some hastened script:
‘We flee this place and prepare to cease the magics of the land until a time when our descendants can return. This I write in secret for it is to be left.
The others have all gone; the enchantments of the Elven People are placed and will endure for times of many years. The Itsu have released a horrible curse and their priests have worked to turn us that hide into stone, but we have not faced that terror yet.
The might of the dwarves will remain, and if the host is caught before they can seal the magic world, it will be for naught. But Truesong the Elf, as well as the Dwarven Hammersongs, are strong; they will not fall without a resounding clamor. I write this, my last, as the beasts of the Itsu search. I too, will join my stone Brothers.’
"That is it," he told them. "And I finally know the fate of my people and the Hammersongs."
"Hammersongs?” Euso asked.
"The Hammersongs were the most skilled warriors of our culture. They earned their name as such due to the sounds of almost music present as their axes and hammers would decimate the enemy. I had one with me when I met Berie; his sacrifice allowed us to reach Elinathrond."
"A good man, and one of many that died that day," Berie said. “Both elves and dwarves lost many that night.”
"Well, one part of that text helps makes sense of what we are seeing here," Euso said. "Perhaps the strange vines and trees above are part of elven enchantments?"
"And it we now know the Dwarven Hand went south."
"As well as the Solace — the crystal, I presume."
Berie looked toward the inscription on the floor. “I believe it is a necklace, worn by the god Etha. Many knew she had a necklace of power, the Solace Stone may have been added during the time these events transpired. Crystals can contain different spells. It must have been used somehow with the Dwarven Hand."
"Well, that is likely south then, too," Slats said. "That is
the elvish crystal the wind god spoke of."
"Then the home of my people is next for us?" Berie questioned.
"Seems likely of a place," Euso said, "And I'm sure a place of better airflow!"
"We will go there, but I feel it will be where the Armies of Hasten Truce ended their journey. However, it will be well to search there if the Armies were destroyed and a second plan had to be enacted."
"Then perhaps the Elven Palace of my people is where it rests. As the enemy came upon this place it was laid to waste. Since we know they did succeed, it seems that the next place to hide such items would be the Elven regions."
Slats nodded and added, "And that is assuming that such artifacts were not taken by The Order in the years that have passed."
The three of them shared slow and steady nods.
“Let get out of this place,” Euso suggested.
“I agree, as the air is foul,” Berie said.
They both began out. Before departing, Slats went to the statues at the opposite end of the room and bowed. He took his ax from his back and held it in front of him. “By the grace of you, my people, may this ax not tarry in bringing you justice."
The dwarf kissed the feet of each statue, the encased prison placed on his for-bearers, and then stood.
It was a somber journey back from the Harrodarr keep for Slats, and a soft rain pattered the face of the dwarf as he emerged, looking out over the mountains as the rivers Tita and Rodal rushed to his left and right. The water striking his face helped hide the tears that fell from his eyes.
The cool wind pushed the storm clouds away, and as the rain slowed, they began back down the mountainside. They came again to the halfway point and Berie looked back to where she had found the body.
"A lone legionnaire . . . " Euso said.
"Or not, and the traps were sprung before our arrival into the mountain, and the bodies were out of sight," Slats noted.
They made it back to the valley and had just neared again the joining point of the rivers when the sound of shouting came from behind them.
"Good sirs! Excuse us, good sirs!"
It was the sound of children, their voices meek and out of breath even from a distance.
Saints of Wura: Winemaker of the North, Arcane Awakening, Reckoning in the Void (Saints of Wura Books 1-3 with bonus content) Page 42
