by A. Giannetti
”Do not become overconfident,” warned Ascilius, who still seemed out of sorts. “We could fall afoul of the Goblins at any time.” He looked suspiciously at the back wall of the cave and tapped it all over with his ax handle to make sure it was solid and not some hidden entrance to a Goblin lair.
“Are all Dwarves so gloomy?” asked Elerian. “We are safe for now, we have shelter, and we have food. If only I had some way to cook these fish, I would be perfectly content.”
“Perhaps I can manage something,” said Ascilius reluctantly. He walked to the back of the cave and lifted his right hand. With his third eye, Elerian saw a small red orb of light, reminiscent of Goblin magic, fly from his fingertips. The sphere struck the floor of the cave by the back wall, and red flames sprang up, growing into a tiny fire. Curiously, Elerian examined the fire. The flickering flames burned silently, without any smoke, and the heat they gave off was already warming the cave.
“Is it a form of mage light?” Elerian asked.
“This is Dwarf fire,” said Ascilius sternly. “It is the key to working metal with magic, but it is also very dangerous. If I lost control of it, it could flare up in an instant and destroy us both.”
“How do you control it?” asked Elerian, staring raptly at the flames.
“That is secret Dwarf knowledge,” said Ascilius with a note of smugness in his voice. His dark mood seemed to have lifted as soon as he noted Elerian’s interest in his fire.
“I will have some of my revenge now for the way he tortured me with the grouse,” thought Ascilius to himself as he plunged his right hand into the flames and watched with satisfaction as Elerian’s eyes widened in amazement, for the flames crawled over Ascilius’s hand, but astonishingly, did not burn it. Ascilius drew his hand back and showed Elerian that it was unharmed.
“Is this the red fire you were going to teach me about?” asked Elerian eagerly.
“It is, and I said I would teach you if you showed the right qualities,” said Ascilius severely, reminding Elerian of his old friend Tullius for a moment. “Right now, I think you are much too frivolous for serious magic like this. You have also shown a great lack of respect for me, your future teacher.”
The sudden worried look on Elerian’s face cheered Ascilius even more. “I have him now,” he thought to himself with satisfaction.
“You are joking, of course,” said Elerian, searching Ascilius’s face for some sign of humor. “You are still mad about the grouse.”
“I never joke,” said Ascilius severely. “We Dwarves are a serious people, unlike other races I could name,” he said darkly.
Elerian searched Ascilius’s face again and still could not decide if the Dwarf meant what he said. He began cleaning his two trout, stealing an occasional glance at Ascilius, who sat by his fire, maintaining a dignified silence.
Every now and then, when he was sure Elerian was watching, Ascilius ostentatiously passed his right hand through the flames. “This will teach him to trifle with a Dwarf,” he thought to himself as he observed, with satisfaction, the looks of envy that crossed Elerian’s face every time he did this.
After fetching a green branch from the forest outside the cave, Elerian spitted his trout on it, all the while thinking furiously how he might turn the tables on Ascilius. Finally, he had an idea. He handed the trout to Ascilius and said gravely, “It is only fitting that the fire master roasts the fish.”
Ascilius took the make shift spit without comment and began cooking the trout over his fire. Meanwhile, Elerian picked up a large stone lying on the cave floor and split it in half with a parting spell. Sitting down on the ground, he set both pieces of stone to spinning slowly in front of him at the level of his waist. After using his shape-changing spell to loosen the rigid structure of the stones, Elerian formed each of them into a tankard with a curving handle, setting them down on the ground in front of him when he was done.
Ascilius was impressed with Elerian’s show of skill and magic, although he did his best not to show it. “Those will break the first time you drop them,” he said disparagingly.
Transferring the stick holding the trout to his left hand, Ascilius raised his right hand and said, “Duro!” in a commanding voice. With his third eye, Elerian saw two small golden orbs fly, one after the other, toward the tankards he had just completed. Both containers were briefly covered with a film of golden light when the orbs struck them. After the light faded away, Elerian saw that the tankards had taken on a glassy, slippery look. Still holding the spit in his left hand, Ascilius rose and picked up one of the stone cups. Elerian started when the Dwarf suddenly flung it against the cave wall with a sudden, powerful throw of his right arm. A clear chime filled the cave when the tankard struck the wall, as if Ascilius had rung a bell of the purest crystal. Instead of shattering, as Elerian had expected it would, the cup fell to the ground unharmed. When Elerian rose and picked it up, he saw that there was not the slightest chip or scratch on it.
“That is more secret Dwarf magic,” said Ascilius in weighty tones. The smug look had returned to his face. “Please do not ask me to reveal it,” he said as he turned his attention to grilling the fish again. A moment later, much to Elerian’s annoyance, he actually began humming a tune.
“Let him gloat,” thought Elerian to himself. “He will chance his tune in a moment.” Without saying a word, he took the two tankards to the front of the cave, filling both of them with clear water from one of the streams of rainwater running down over the lip of the entrance. Casting a transformation spell, Elerian turned the rainwater in one tankard to the strong red wine of northern Hesperia. When he returned to the back of the cave, Ascilius had already broken the spit holding the fish in half. He handed Elerian one of the crisp trout, still spitted on the broken stick. Elerian passed the tankard full of water to Ascilius and then sat down beside him to eat his meal. Ascilius immediately took a deep drought from his cup.
“This is water,” he said in a disappointment tone as he lowered it again.
“That is odd,” said Elerian, “mine seems to be filled with wine.” He took a long, appreciative drink while Ascilius watched with the look of someone who has spent days without water in a scorching dessert.
“You wouldn’t be so cruel as to drink wine in front of me while I have only water?” he asked in a tone of disbelief.
Elerian took a second swallow, savoring the taste of the rich vintage. “We could trade if you teach me the secret of the red fire?” he said casually.
Ascilius did his best to look horrified. “Do you think I would trade the secrets of the Dwarves for a tankard of wine?” he asked Elerian in lofty tones.
Instead of answering, Elerian took another long swallow of wine.
“Don’t finish it,” shouted Ascilius, with an alarmed look on his face.
Ignoring Ascilius, Elerian took another drink. It was more than the poor Dwarf could stand.
“All right!” shouted Ascilius. “I will do it! You should be ashamed of yourself, tormenting a poor Dwarf in this fashion,” he said reproachfully.
Elerian, of course, did not feel ashamed at all, but wisely, he said nothing. Having won the battle, there was no need to stir up the fiery Dwarf by gloating over his victory. Casually, he stretched out his right hand and changed the water in Ascilius’s tankard to wine. Ascilius immediately took a long swallow, a look of pleasure spreading over his bearded face.
Despite the dark, unusual color of their scales, the trout proved sweet and tender and the wine excellent. Several tankards later, in an expansive mood, Ascilius extinguished his fire and curled up to sleep on the floor, which was now pleasantly warm from the flames. Elerian lay down where he could watch the entrance. Pleasantly full from the trout and basking in the afterglow of the wine, he soon fell into the light slumber that passed for sleep with him. In his dreams, he saw Balbus once more and relieved some of the scenes of his youth, as real as if they were happening before his eyes for the first time. Outside the cave, the rain continued to fa
ll steadily.
A WRONG TURN
At first light, Elerian stirred and sat up stiffly. He was used to sleeping on the ground, but it felt like the cold, damp air inside the cave had seeped into his bones. The world outside was still gray, the air filled with a fine, steady rain. A cold breeze blew in from the cave entrance. Behind Elerian, Ascilius stirred and sat up, groaning and shivering. Hardy as he was, he, too, was affected by the cold and damp.
“No breakfast and rain all day,” said Ascilius glumly.
“You should be glad of the rain,” said Elerian. “It will cover our tracks for another day.” He stood and began filling their empty tankards from the water dripping over the cave entrance. He intended to transform the water to wine, but when he cast the spell, he felt oddly weak as if he were trying to lift a heavy burden after a long day of toil. With his mage sight, he saw that the light, which covered the tankards, was tenuous and pale. When he raised his cup to his lips, Elerian found that the liquid it contained was weak and bitter tasting, neither completely wine nor water. His hands shook as he emptied the tankards on the ground. A moment later, his legs gave way beneath him, but before he could fall, Ascilius leapt to his feet and supported him with his right hand.
“I will be all right in a moment,” said Elerian hastily. “I cannot understand what has come over me.
“I warned you about the danger of using that ring you found,” said Ascilius sharply, as he lowered Elerian to a sitting position on the ground. “Now you are paying the price for not listening to me. The ring has drained your strength, sucking it out of you as if it were a wraith feeding on your life force.”
“I had a whole night of rest last night,” objected Elerian.
“You have drained your reserves of power to the point that one night alone will not repair the damage,” said Ascilius. “If you do not put that ring aside for a while, it will kill you as surely as a Goblin spear would.”
“Very well,” agreed Elerian. “I will not use it today. The rain will provide sufficient cover for us.” He made as if to rise and fell back at once.
“You are too weak to walk,” said Ascilius critically. “Since I am not of a mind to carry you over the mountains, we will wait here until you regain some of your strength.”
Elerian was annoyed by the delay, but Ascilius remained firm in his decision. Carrying Elerian’s bow, he left the cave, leaving Elerian behind to rest and recover his strength.
Ignoring the steady, cold rain, Ascilius returned to the stream where Elerian had taken the trout the day before. Bow in hand, he chased dark trout in and out of pools and through shallow rapids until he was chilled to the bone. He was not the marksman Elerian was, preferring a crossbow to a bow, but he still managed to end up with four trout, each of them as long as his arm. When he set out for the cave again, he stumbled across a hollow log that contained a number of chestnuts, stored away by some squirrel in the fall, most still in their spiny coverings. Determined to carry them all away, but lacking anything to carry them in, Ascilius took off his pants and filled them with all the nuts that looked unspoiled. When he arrived back at the cave, water running in streams out of his drenched hair and beard, wearing only his skin, Elerian raised his eyebrows inquiringly.
“This is an odd time to take a bath,” he said with a gleam of mischief in his eyes.
Soaked and chilled as he was, Ascilius was in no mood for Elerian’s wit. He glowered at Elerian, throwing the fish and the nuts on the ground without saying a word. His mood lightened immediately, however, when Elerian handed him a cup full of strong wine. Ascilius gulped it down, warmth spreading to every part of his body. Grateful as he was for the wine, he immediately favored Elerian with a look of disapproval when he came up for air.
“My powers are returning,” said Elerian in reply to the look. He held up his hands, which remained steady. “The rest seems to have done me some good.”
Still radiating disapproval, Ascilius started another of his magical fires, drying and warming himself in front of it, while Elerian quickly prepared the fish and shelled the chestnuts. Ascilius cooked everything over the fire. The crisp fish and warm, sweet chestnuts, washed down with several cups of wine, seemed a feast.
“I have not felt so full in years,” said Ascilius contentedly, as he drowsed in the warmth thrown out by his magical fire. “Perhaps we should stay here one more night,” he said, examining Elerian with a critical eye.
It was a tempting thought, for outside the cave, the rain still fell steadily, but Elerian knew they ought to move on. “We should take advantage of the rain,” he said to Ascilius. “It will cover us and our tracks.”
With a sigh, Ascilius extinguished his fire and took up his ax. Elerian picked up both of the empty drinking cups in his hands. An instant later, Ascilius started when they suddenly disappeared.
“What happened to the tankards?” he asked curiously.
“I sent them through a small portal to the same place where I keep my spell book and my ring,” explained Elerian.
“I have heard of portals,” said Ascilius, “but Dwarves do not use that sort of magic. Our magic tends to be of the more practical variety, useful for making things, unlike the frivolous spells of other races,” he said loftily.
From the gleam in Ascilius’s dark eyes, Elerian knew the Dwarf was trying to aggravate him. Evidently, the food and wine had restored his good spirits.
“You did not think it frivolous when I filled the tankards with wine,” said Elerian dryly.
“When I am not trapped in the wilderness, I can buy all the wine I wish,” said Ascilius disdainfully. “My fire spell is a much more useful spell.”
Ascilius and Elerian continued to argue good-naturedly over the merits of their respective magic as they stepped out of the cave into the rain. They soon lapsed into silence, however. Since Ascilius would not allow Elerian to cast any spells, they were quickly soaked to the skin, and both of them, hardy though they were, began to shiver, for the cold rain drew all the heat from their bodies as it ran over their heads and shoulders in little streamlets.
The gray day quickly turned even darker as the unseen sun sank behind the horizon behind them. Walking steadily up the side of the mountain above the cave, Ascilius and Elerian traveled over slopes that were bare rock for the most part. The constant rain hid them from prying eyes, but it made the rocks slippery and treacherous, slowing their ascent. It was the middle of the night before they finally reached the summit of a saddle where they could see what lay beyond the mountain they had climbed with so much effort.
The rain had finally stopped. Standing before a gray outcrop of rock to prevent their silhouettes from showing on the skyline, they examined the landscape before them. To the east, great banks of dark clouds continued to drop their curtain of silvery rain on the lands below, but above them, the sky was clearing and stars suddenly shone through breaks in the clouds, providing their eyes with enough light to see clearly all the country before them. In front of them, the mountainside fell away in long, steep, stony slopes, broken up by sharp cliffs. The upper slopes were bare rock, but father down were thorny forests of the kind that Elerian and Ascilius had become all too familiar with. At the foot of the mountain was another valley, covered with a gloomy, forbidding wood. The dark river running down the center of the valley was not unexpected, but both Elerian and Ascilius were surprised to see a wide paved road running north to south along its west bank, the first sign they had seen of any civilization in this wild and forbidding land. On the eastern side of the valley rose another dark range, even taller and steeper than the one they had just scaled.
“More mountains,” said Elerian disgustedly. “Will they never end?”
“Take heart,” said Ascilius cheerfully. “The river below us is the Alba. Those mountains on the far side of it are the last barrier between the Broken Lands and us. We have almost reached the border of Nefandus.”
“How do we cross the river?” asked Elerian. “It looks swift and deep.”
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“If I remember rightly, there is a bridge across the river a day’s journey to the north,” said Ascilius. “An old Dwarf road runs east from the bridge through a gap in the mountains, leading straight into the Broken Lands.”
With the end of their journey through Nefandus finally in sight, Elerian and Ascilius were both eager to be on their way again. Before they set off again, however, they carefully scanned the whole side of the mountain below them for any sign of danger. Nothing moved in the barren landscape of bare rock, sheer cliffs, and sharp ridges that comprised the upper slopes of the mountain. The road next to the river was empty of traffic, either because of the weather or because it was not in use by the Goblins.
“Let us try to reach the edge of the forest next to the road before daybreak,” said Ascilius when they were both satisfied that it was safe to move on.
“We should wait until morning and climb down under the cover of my ring,” said Elerian uneasily. “With the storm blowing over, we will be too exposed on the bare slopes below.”
“We will be even more exposed sitting up here in the open for the rest of the night,” Ascilius pointed out. “With the rain ending, there will be spies abroad. I say we go on now.”
Reluctantly, Elerian gave in, although he had an uneasy feeling about the slopes below them.
Despite Elerian’s misgivings, the two companions had no trouble making their way down the first half of the mountainside. Then, at the bottom of a steep incline littered with large boulders, they came to a wide ledge whose far side ended in a sheer drop of almost a thousand feet. On their right, the ledge narrowed and disappeared, so they elected to follow the left hand path, which seemed to continue on across the side of the mountain. The ledge was wide enough for them to walk two abreast, and it descended at a gradual incline. Their hopes of using it to reach the lower slopes were dashed, however, when it ended at the foot of a sheer cliff.
