“Your son grows strong inside of me. I can feel him moving now.”
Elias looked away from the sea and into Coral's striking emerald green eyes. "You're sure it's a son?”
She giggled. “The gods have decreed it. What else would he be?”
He leaned down to kiss her lips, closing his eyes, just sinking into her. A copper taste filled his mouth, and he pulled back, opening his eyes to look at her, puzzled.
Her skin was pale, her eyes cloudy, and blood ran from the corner of her mouth. Protruding from her stomach was a blackened sword, a medallion hanging from the hilt. Blood pooled on the sand under her as she went limp, her eyes rolling back as she fell towards the sand.
“Coral! Coral!” he cried, shaking her. She didn't respond.
A swirling black cloud blotted out the sun, and the seas turned black. Lightning crashed above him as her skin started falling away from her body like ash, revealing a tiny, curled skeleton inside of her. The skull turned towards him, looking at him with vacant eye sockets, skeletal hands gripping the blade of the sword. Its jaw creaked open, hissing at him, the sound chilling him to the very depths of his being.
~ ~ ~
Elias startled awake and sat abruptly up. Bumping his head on the pole that supported his small tent, he nearly caused it to collapse around him. He had opted to use a tent similar to the rest of his warriors, to facilitate an easy set up and break down of camp, though the quarters were much smaller than he was used to. Sweat beaded on his brow despite the cold morning, while his pulse thundered in his ears, and his breathing came fast and ragged.
Gradually, his heartbeat and breath slowed. He wiped the moisture away from his face, and looked down at his clothing. He was entirely drenched in sweat, soaking through his tunic. Pulling it off, he crawled through the low opening of his tent.
It was perhaps an hour before dawn, and already the camp was stirring. Thankfully, there was no wind this morning, though the air was brisk and chilly. The sky above him was clear, and was growing lighter above the mountains to the east. His breath fogged in front of him as he walked to the river to rinse out his tunic. On his way, he stopped by the cart that held his belongings, collecting his bow and a quiver of arrows. If there were deer to be hunted, he wouldn't mind the meat. Jerky was suitable for keeping one alive, but it did grow dull after eating it for every meal.
Sure enough, across the river, he saw a doe on the riverbank. Crouching down, he nocked an arrow, and took the shot, catching her in the breast, just between her front quarters. She bolted, of course, but tried to run straight up the hill, away from the river. She got thirty yards before she stumbled and fell back to the riverbank, snapping off the arrow on the way.
Elias waded across the shallow river, thankful that his forces had camped where the river was wide, running over a broad stony patch before flowing back into the deeper, more narrow canyon it had cut into the mountains. The water reached up to his knees, and some of the rocks were slippery, so by the time he made it across, the doe was in her final death throes, gasping, her eyes rolling about in panic. Elias cut her throat with the knife he kept at his hip, and ended her suffering. He grunted as he picked up her body and carried her back across the river, and field dressed her on the shore. He washed his hands in the river, cleaning himself, then rinsed his shirt. Slinging the much lighter carcass over his shoulder, he carried the deer back to the camp.
Tataramoa was already awake, having revived the fire in front of Elias's tent. He looked up as the giant elf approached. “Good hunting this morning?”
Elias set the carcass down near the fire. “The rut is soon, so they're more active than they are in the summer. It was an easy shot. It won't feed many, but it will feed some. Don't bother with the hide. We won't have time to tan it.”
Tataramoa gestured to a younger elf, who began skinning the deer immediately. “Of course, Elias. Did you sleep well?”
Elias shook his head. “Stony ground and cold wind don't lend themselves to an easy night. I'll be glad once we reach Rockhill, and can pitch a proper camp. I greatly prefer a cot to a bedroll.”
“I am just glad to be off of that boat.”
Elias chuckled, wringing out his tunic, and setting it near the fire to dry. “A strange sentiment, coming from a sea elf.”
The warrior smiled thinly. "I was not a hunter of fish. My spear is meant for boar and goats. I preferred to keep my feet on the sand and soil of the islands.”
Elias nodded. “Well, now your spear is meant for orcs and men.”
Tataramoa shrugged. “They are not so different from boar. Both boar and men bleed when you put holes in them, and both will try to kill you back.”
Elias chuckled. “That is very true.”
Elias sliced a slab of meat off of the rear flank of the deer, and spitted it on a steel rod. While Tataramoa broke down Elias's tent, he roasted the venison over the renewed flames. What he would give right now for some garlic or onions, to accent the rather bland, dry meat.
By the time the meat was cooked through, most of the tents surrounding them had been packed away and loaded on carts or tied to backpacks. As they went through their food supplies, more and more of the elves were opting to store their packs on the carts; on the Greenreef isles, wild food was so abundant that the sea elves seldom carried it with them. There was no need when one could step into the jungle and pluck fruit from a tree all year round.
It was four more days march to Rockhill, and the road was mountainous. The next time they would see civilization would be at Silverdeep, half a day's march from Rockhill. Once at Rockhill, they would make a more permanent camp and resupply for the journey into the Northlands. Once there, they would wait for Jonas, Martin, Jenna and Geoff to rendezvous with them, one hundred more warriors in tow.
Elias signaled for the march to begin, and Tataramoa sounded two short blasts from a horn. As he walked eastward, the rest of the warriors fell in behind him. If what he had heard in Pine River was correct, there was no time to waste.
Chapter Four
5th Waxing Autumn Moon, Year 4369
The town of Silverdeep lay on the south side of the road, atop a broad, low ridge overlooking the road to Rockhill. The dwarven settlement was well known throughout Lonwick for mining gold, copper, precious stones, and, of course, silver. The veins ran thick and deep in the stone of the mountains, but the mining expertise of the dwarves was renowned, and Silverdeep supplied much of the wealth of Lonwick. When last Elias had passed through, the city was bustling with woodworkers, smelters, miners, and gem cutters, all toiling through the hot summer days, sheltered by the cool interior of the mines.
Elias was surprised to find the city deserted. Most of the buildings still stood, being made of stone, but every wooden structure was burned and had been for some time. Thatch roofs were collapsed, in dire need of repair from disuse and storm damage. Where there had once stood crates and boxes of wares ready to be sent to the capital, there was nothing. It was as if the entire population had taken everything of value with them, and burned what was left.
The opening of the mines was visible from the road, set back into a low, wide quarry that had been dug into the side of the mountain. Where the mine had once stood open to the air, a massive slab of stone now sealed it off from the outside world. From where Elias stood, he could see what looked like a door made of solid iron, about a foot taller than he was, and about four feet wide. A well-worn road led to the door, complete with iron rails for carts to roll along. Scattered around the clearing in front of the door were dozens of empty carts, but no ore or rubble waiting to be processed. The once large piles of timber were gone, burned to charcoal and ash, as well as the coal used to fire the now missing smelters.
Elias shook his head and glanced to the west. The sun was setting, the shadows of the mountains there creeping towards them. "We may as well camp here. One more night on the road, and we're at Rockhill. It looks like whatever it was that happened here, it happened a while ago.”
Elias took a walk around the abandoned town, speaking to the elves as they went about making camp. They were keeping to the open area just in front of the sealed entrances to the mines, as it provided protection from the winds from the south and west. He approached the iron door that was set in the middle of the stone slab that sealed off the tunnel and examined it. There was no sign of a doorknob, latch, or hinges; it was as if the iron had been set directly into the stone with no mechanism to open it. However, there was a well-traveled path that led directly to and under the thick iron, which suggested that it had opened in the not too recent past.
Elias spotted Kahu Whero. He called him over, and the young warrior immediately obeyed.
“I want this door guarded from now until we leave. Two elves at all times. Change guards every four hours until we break camp tomorrow morning. I don' know what's down there, and I don't want any surprises.” Elias patted the iron door, which was cold in the failing sunlight. “If this door opens, I want to know immediately.”
Kahu Whero bowed. “Yes, Kaiwhakaora.”
As he took his hand off of the door, there was a loud -clank- from behind it, and the screech of metal grinding against stone. The door swung inward to reveal four stocky dwarves, one of which was taller than the others, but built in the same thick manner. The smell of coal smoke and metal wafted off of him as cold air blew out of the mine.
The three shorter dwarves stepped forward, brandishing axes, but the taller dwarf held a hand out to stop them before they could pass him. He looked up at Elias, his familiar eyes crinkling as he grinned. It was Darby, the blacksmith he had met in Jetty, just before he departed the mainland!
“Well hello, lad. Fancy seeing you here.”
~ ~ ~
Elias sat on one side of a crackling fire, while Darby sat on the other, eating a tender slice of jerky sandwiched between slices of dry bread. The three dwarves that accompanied him stood by the door, holding their axes and glaring about at the sea elves, who regarded them with more than a little curiosity. The walls of the quarry sheltered them from most of the cold breeze of the evening, and the campsite was illuminated by the campfires of eight hundred sea elves, who were bustling about, setting up tents and distributing food amongst the hungry warriors. The attitude of the guards softened slightly when they were offered food, though they kept their responses curt and their hands on their axes.
“It's been a while since I've had meat,” Darby said around a mouthful as he sat on a half-burned crate. “We've been underground for six months, livin' on last year's harvests. That ain't no way for a dwarf to live. I thank ya for this.”
Elias spread his hands. “It's not a problem, really. We brought more than enough.”
Darby glanced around while he chewed on his meal. “Ye've come up more'n a bit since last we spoke. Not just a mercenary anymore, eh?”
“Not just a mercenary anymore,” Elias agreed.
Darby gestured to the camp around them. “All of these elves, they're yours?”
Elias shook his head. “No. They are their own. We've got a common enemy, so they travel with me.”
Darby chuckled. “But if ya say t' guard a door, they make sure it's guarded, don't they?”
Elias nodded. “I guess they do. But the difference is that if they want to leave, they are free to do so. They are still their own elves. They are with me because they choose to be.”
Darby smiled, biting into his sandwich again. “An army o' free elves. Impressive thing indeed, that is.”
Elias smiled as he stirred up the fire. "I like to think it is.” He looked up at Darby. “I've got some questions if you've got time.”
Darby shrugged, finishing his meat and bread. “I've got plenty of that.”
“The city here. It was destroyed by the Felle, wasn't it?”
Darby shook his head. “No. Wasn't them. They attacked lots o' the northern settlements, true, even Jetty and Pine River, burned farms and whatnot, but they never hit Silverdeep. No, that was your kinsmen. Raiders from the Northlands.”
Elias furrowed his brow. “But the Northmen haven't raided south in eighty years, not since their civil war. It was Brynjar's grandfather that united the clans and put a stop to the raiding.”
Darby shrugged. “Then I guess another civil war would be about right t' get them raiding again.”
Elias frowned into the fire. "I'm headed up that way. I'd rather not be walking into a battlefield, but I can't let Brandt fight by himself. He's much like his father; he didn't agree with the raiding. I can guarantee that it wasn't him or his men that ordered the attacks south of their border.”
“Be that as it may, we've got bigger problems than the Northmen. We can lock them out, and there's not a damn thing they can do 'bout it. A lot o' us've just kept diggin'; there's precious little else to do down there. We've just stockpilin' the ore, smeltin' what we can when we can, makin' ingots and mintin' coins, so that when one side kills everyone on the other side, we can do one o' two things.”
Darby held up one finger. “If Lonwick wins, we can restart our trade with a bit of a lead. Gold and silver, copper and iron, it's all gonna be necessary to rebuild the kingdom after a war, y'see, and we'll be there to supply it.”
Darby held up another finger. “If the Felle win, we'll be able to cut ties to the surface completely, and start up our own kingdom. We've already got tunnels t' our southern mines. It ain't as big or grand a kingdom as Lonwick or the North, but it'll be ours, and we'll answer t' no elf again.” He dropped his hand. “We've already got a council here, we've already got a treasury vault, we've got roads, and each city has a council or committee, whatever ya wanna call 'em. All we need now is to finish our rail line from north to south, and we've got a kingdom in our own right, where nobody else can see it.”
Elias was a little dumbfounded. Dwarves were known above ground in Lonwick, of course; in fact, it had been in Jetty that he had met Darby, but he had no idea as to the extent of their civilization. They were mostly kept in the mountains, being encouraged to mine for the Kingdom, and compensated for their work as Lonwick deemed was fair.
“Your own kingdom? You want to break from Lonwick?”
Darby scoffed. "Aye, we have! For the last two centuries, since we finally won this farce that Lonwick calls freedom! We might not be slaves anymore, but we're damn close to it. You walk around like it's nothin', carryin' that great whoppin' blade on your back, and nobody bats an eye. I so much as carry a sword or battleaxe with me, I get stopped by every Lonwick patrol and interrogated until they're satisfied. If I'm lucky, they let me keep the blade, when I'm the one that made it!”
Elias frowned. “I didn't know, Darby. I'm sorry. I lived most of my life in the Northlands. Up there, elves are the hated ones, not the dwarves.”
Darby shook his head, waving away the apology. “Like I said, lad, we've got bigger problems than Lonwick or the Northerners. Once we sealed the mines t' keep the raiders out, we kept on diggin'. Only made sense, after all. Keep busy, expand our roads, that sort of thing.”
He gestured around them with one hand. “These hills used to be full o' fire, that's where the gems come from, and the metal too. Most o' the fire has cooled, but there's some places where it's still alive and bubblin'.”
The tall dwarf sighed. “We found one o' those places. A great scaly lizard and her brood had made it their nest. We broke into their cavern, and lost a score of skilled miners to their jaws.” He shook his head. “We've sent more'n a few hun
ter down that way, an' the ones that make it back said the others were ripped apart, eaten before they could break past the beasts's scales. They're very fast; no fire, though, just lots o' teeth an' blood. Our picks and axes wouldn't even touch them. Just bounced off, barely even scratching their scales.”
Darby looked up at Elias, narrowing his eyes. “We need something harder, something stronger. I was going t' go back t' my forge in Jetty, to see if I had some steel left over from when I made that sword of yours. Much harder, much stronger than the steel we pull out o' these rocks. I was going to make an axe out of it, to pierce their hide.”
Elias paused, pondering for a moment. “I already have a weapon made from that steel. I wonder if it would be strong enough to slay those beasts.”
Darby smiled wryly. “Great minds must think like mine, lad. When I saw you standing there in the doorway, I thought t' myself, hey now, there's the lad I sold that sword to, and you're right big enough t' swing it. D' ya have the will t' help out a bunch o' lowly dwarves?”
Elias nodded. “I could do that. But I would need something in return.”
Darby looked askance at Elias. “Of course. Ain't nothin' free. What would ya need?”
Elias met Darby's eyes with his own. "I am heading north from here, to Valtheim. It was once the home of Brandt, and Brynjar before him, men so close to me as to be kin. When they were in control, there were no raids from the north, no attacks on Lonwick towns. I plan to go to his aid and help restore him to his throne in the north. I only have eight hundred warriors, all sea elves, with another hundred joining us at Rockhill. I don't think that will be enough. I need more soldiers.”
Darby set his chin in his hand, considering. "Well now. Asking us t' help liberate the land o' the men who burned our village. That's a tall order.”
Elias shook his head. “No. Liberate it from the men who burned your town. Brandt wouldn't do that. I've known him for his entire life. He's not that kind of man. If we can help him return to power, we can stop the raids that did this.” He gestured over his shoulder at the ruins of Silverdeep.
Thunderbolt (Dynasty of Storms Book 2) Page 6
