Secrets of the Elders (Chronicles of Acadia: Book I)

by D. M. Almond

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  “Smells like a dog’s arse out here,” Grubble complained in a hushed voice, pinching his large nose in disgust.

  “Kinda mentioned that already…,” Bipp groaned, starting to lose his patience with the old warrior’s constant grumbling. Grubble was undoubtedly an amazing fighter, infamous all throughout Dudje for his exploits. However, Bipp was starting to wonder if he could get away with another frying pan trick shot to the grouchy gnome’s head.

  Logan hushed both of them while Corbin tried to focus on falling back into his trance.

  They had been making their way, carefully and quietly, through the outer ruins for a couple hours now. The place was overgrown by all manner of plants, as if the land of Vanidriell had long ago reclaimed the very rock used to build the outskirts of Ul’kor. Here, the cavern ceiling sharply rose to a staggering height, even taller than the kingdom of New Fal. Deserted buildings were all around the ruins, though they were not as tightly packed as Dudje. The landscape was much flatter, but otherwise the buildings were much the same, being stacked on top of each other. Thick vines ran up the crumbling walls and dark green lichen blanketed the area along with crooked, leafless trees and tall reedy weeds. The whole area smelled like a rotting garbage pile.

  They were unsure if it was from some great battle, or if it was simply the work of time that had left the outer city in such ruins. Walls were toppled, stones shattered where they lay, and buildings were crumbling everywhere they looked. The entire place looked like one giant cemetery, except the monoliths and mausoleums used to be shops and homes.

  Corbin had been using his power to guide them safely through the ruined landscape, which was littered with filthy cobold dens or packs of the creatures sitting around campfires. Baetylus hovered next to him, unseen by his companions, instructing him in the use of his psionic abilities. The Crystal god was much more vivid now that Corbin had taken the Svalin earpiece off, un-shielding his mind.

  At first, the idea of exposing himself to the massive amount of latent psychic energy flowing from the multitude of sentient beings in the immediate area unnerved him. The All-Father was easily able to calm him, talking Corbin through dampening out the sounds by lacing layers of energy around his mind, acting as a one-way psychic shield.

  Narrowing his focus down to the immediate area, Corbin was able to adapt well to his god’s wisdom, probing into the darkest recesses of the surrounding structures, and around the multitude of blind corners. The seething minds of cobolds stood out like glowing beacons against the lifeless expanse surrounding them. In this way, he was able to pick a path through the outer city of Ul’kor, each time avoiding a run-in with the abandoned city’s savage inhabitants.

  “Do not let the gnomes’ prattle disturb your concentration, my son,” Baetylus cautioned, bright white robes flowing even though there was no breeze. “Focus your mind. We must get you out of the open and into shelter.”

  Corbin was pleased when the All-Father offered to help. He had thought his god would be angry that Corbin had gone against his wishes to assist Logan. Instead, Baetylus proved how magnanimous he truly was by forgiving the disobedience, understanding that the bonds between siblings were sacred. Corbin had vowed to his Lord that they would return as soon as Logan finished fulfilling his murdered friend’s dying request, well within the timeline set by the elders.

  A pack of cobolds was sleeping in the bowels of a nearby structure that had been tipped on its side decades before. “We need to go down this alley and come out around that building to the east,” Corbin whispered to his companions.

  “Aye, aye, Captain,” Grubble said, mocking him with an overzealous salute before striding down the alleyway and muttering to himself about the ridiculousness of taking orders from humans.

  “Don’t let it bother you,” Logan said. “He seems to be in a perpetual state of grumpiness.”

  Bipp hopped straight up and skittered to catch up to them. Sneaking quietly past the abandoned buildings, the party white-knuckled their weapons, ready for a skirmish at a moment’s notice. The battle by Green Serpent River had taught them that these cobolds, diminutive though they might be, were not to be taken lightly.

  The buildings began to become sparser until soon there were none. Instead, the landscape became a long, flat stretch of overgrown grass leading to a wide chasm. Between the thick clumps of weeds on the ground were massive stone tiles made by the ancient gnomes.

  “So this is the real Ul’kor, huh, fellas?” Logan said, as they all stared up in awe at the massive spire towering beyond the chasm. The aerie was easily twice the size of the city of Fal, rising high up into the air above, almost reaching as far as the ceiling itself. All manner of buildings and turrets were carved majestically around the spire’s rocky, unpolished face.

  Silhouettes of domed roofs could be dimly seen on top of the mighty column, signaling where the true city of Ul’kor rested. A wide stone bridge, overgrown with weeds and tangled vines, led the way to the Hall of Ul’kor, seat of the builders, at the base of the spire. Past the bridge, the entrance loomed high, coming to an arched point. Sets of statues depicting gnome mages stood on the either side of the bridge every twenty feet or so, staring down at travelers entering the city.

  A gruff slap in the arse snapped Logan out of his reverie. “C’mon, fancy pants, let’s get yer show on the road already.” Grubble led the group across the open field, the brothers having to duck low in the tall grass to keep out of sight. Baetylus’ visage drifted over the grass without disturbing any of the tall reeds.

  Closer to the bridge, they could see the moss had grown over the dead remains of gnome and human bodies, leaving behind nothing but the skeletal remains covered in rusty armor and overgrown with plants.

  “These remains have to be centuries old,” Corbin reasoned, based on what Bipp had told him of Ul’kor lore.

  “Leave it to the filthy cobold mongrels not to bury our kin,” Grubble said, spitting on the ground in disgust. Every honorable soldier deserved a proper burial.

  As they made their way across the bridge, Bipp craned his neck to the side, squinting to try to make out what might be past the dark entrance to the aerie. His mam’s voice kept playing in his head, scolding him to be a good boy or he would have to go live in the ruins with the demons. Even then, he knew it would never happen. It was just something they said to make young’uns behave, but it sure felt like a possibility now. As they passed the last set of statues, dull gray marble eyes seemed to follow the party, and Bipp worked hard not to stare up at them.

  The main corridor was lined with a series of carved brownstone totem poles, all manner of animals and faces stacked on top of each other, supporting the heavy weight of the city above. Some of the faces had worn away ages ago, while others lay on the ground, staring up at them. Now Bipp could feel their eyes watching him as they crept through the hall. When Logan grabbed his shoulder, meaning to signal a halt, the gnome almost squealed like a lass. Biting his fist, he was just ready to scold the man, but his friend held a finger to his lips and nodded toward his brother.

  Corbin silently beckoned for them to follow him up a side stairwell, sensing a handful of cobolds further down on this level, and secretly having Baetylus guide him upward. Grubble led the way, carefully scouting the rounded stairwell to make sure nothing lay in wait. The way was blocked by a large rockslide at the next floor. The Falians had to help the gnomes climb over, and they continued their progress up the steps until they came to another doorway.

  Stopping for a moment, Corbin reached out again, sweeping the area for sentient life, and then waved them on once more. He was becoming very skilled with the use of his power, to the point where it almost felt second nature.

  Everyone came to a halt as a stone clattered across the floor from the shadows. Grubble reacted swiftly, leaping into the dark corner and swinging his double-headed axe down, while the rest of the group instinctively fell into a triangle formation, backs all faci
ng each other, ready for the fight. When none came, they were confused.

  “Grubble?” Bipp whispered.

  The old warrior chuckled, coming out of the shadows holding a foot-long rat at arm’s length. “Mmmm…stew for dinner tonight, boys.”

  Corbin wrinkled his nose. “Sounds like something those cobolds would like.”

  Grubble gave him a dark look. It was clear he did not like being compared to a cobold. “That’s a stupid human thing to say, not that I expect much more from ye. A cobold wouldn’t even be able to guess what to do proper with a nice meal like this.”

  “It’s actually better than it looks,” Logan said.

  “Blech.” Corbin stuck out his tongue. “When did you try rat?”

  “Jerk named Maxwell fed me some,” Logan said, noticing his brother turn cold hearing the cannibal’s name.

  “You sure it was rat and not human?” Corbin asked gravely.

  Logan was about to protest, but at that moment he realized there really was no way to tell. His heart skipped a beat. Maybe he had eaten human or even gnome for that matter! Then he remembered watching the rat roasting over the fire and laughed away the vile notion, shaking his head and striding confidently forward.

  Something snapped loose, and Logan’s body was flung into the air upside down, dangling on a rope wrapped around the ankle of his left boot. To the side, a large piece of metal clambered to the floor from the wall where it was leaning, letting off a loud crash that echoed down the hallway, an alarm to announce prey had been caught.

  “Blasted idjit, ye set off a damned trap!” Grubble complained as Bipp jumped up and down, looking every which way in panic.

  Logan knew their lives were at risk if he did not act swiftly. Pulling his upper body toward the rope, he grabbed it with one arm and took the weight of his torso off his ankle, unwinding the rope and falling to the floor.

  Grubble was slapping the head of his axe against his calloused palm, waiting for the oncoming assault. Corbin, on the other hand, had a different idea and snatched the dead rat from the warrior’s belt, quickly looping the rope around its neck.

  Before the gnome could protest, Logan was pushing him and Bipp into a doorway down the hall, safely out of sight. As Corbin shoved the old door closed, he could only hope its scraping, rusty joints would be unheard by the rambunctious cobolds making their way down the corridor. The humanoids were hooting and hollering in excitement to see what their trap had caught today.

  “Oh yums, what izz it? Maybe a juicy little lizard?” one of the dirty beasts asked, drool dripping from its fanged mouth.

  “Looks like rat fer lunch, boys!” One of the monsters held up the catch proudly.

  “Give it here, I wants a taste,” another demanded, reaching for the morsel and receiving a backhand across the face from the trap-master.

  “Back off, ya pissants,” the trap-master growled. “This will make a fine stew, maybe with some dried morels.” The group eagerly nodded and licked their lips.

  Bipp and Logan had to bite their tongues at the look on Grubble’s face.

  They did not wait for the furry monsters to reset the trap, instead heading deeper into the dark room they had ducked inside, toward a rear entrance. They found the network of chambers on this side of the hall were all interconnected, running parallel to the corridor by open arched doorways. The furnishings had long past rotted, and the contents of the many rooms were in complete disarray after some ancient rounds of pillaging. The rooms were swimming in cobwebs and dust and smelled of some foul, sour odor the companions could not place.

  They had to creep in the cover of rubble, as one of the rooms was missing a wall to the hallway. Of course, in this one exposed area, two female cobolds sat around a small fire in the hall, waiting for their trappers to come back with a meal.

  “Smells like they caught themselves a plump juicy gnome!” one of the monsters declared, sniffing the air.

  “Think its ghosts you be smelling again,” the other disagreed.

  The companions had no intention of sticking around long enough for either monster to find out which was right. They were already safely three rooms away by the time the trappers returned.

  Here the network of chambers came to a dead end, forcing them back out into the hallway, completely exposed.

  “They are far enough down the other end,” Corbin reasoned, reaching out to probe their path.

  “Bipp, what does that look like to ye? My eyes aren’t what they used to be,” Grubble asked, pointing above the slightly open wooden doors at the end of the hall. They were rotting and a stone plaque rested above them, etched with words neither brother recognized.

  “Looks like old Gnomish script. Hmmm…let’s see.” Bipp squinted to read the ancient script in the dark, scratching his head and lost in thought.

  “This is what you have been searching for,” Baetylus said, his ghostly form appearing beside Corbin.

  “It says king’s audience,” Bipp translated.

  “What does that mean?” Logan asked.

  “Means shut yer stupid pie hole and follow us, human.” Grubble slipped through the crack into the chamber beyond. Bipp shrugged apologetically and followed the warrior.

  Once through the door, Logan bent down to whisper in his friend’s ear. “What is his problem with us anyhow?”

  “He doesn’t trust you,” Bipp said quietly. “Well, not just you. He doesn’t trust any humans. Not likely to find many gnomes that do.”

  “I can see that, but what I don’t understand is why,” Corbin said, joining the conversation.

  “‘Cause yer not to be trusted,” Grubble answered for him. “Beyond me why you think we would believe in ye bastards after everything ye done to our people.”

  The brothers were both confused. They did not know about any feuds between the human and gnome races.

  “Hmm, I think we may know more about Falian history than you,” Bipp said, crawling over a collapsed pillar that had been smashed into large chunks across the corridor. By their silence, he judged he was correct.

  “Ages past, we gnomes came down into Vanidriell to leave the lands of man. Seems your folk were too much to handle up on the surface world, and there was a craving to get back to our roots anyhow. Anyway, centuries passed in peace, and my ancestors built a great kingdom here, devoted to the pursuit of knowledge and honing of craft. Then one day along come the children of man again, seeking refuge in our lands. It seemed the surface world was being taken over by marauders who were bent on humanity’s xenocide.”

  Corbin hushed Bipp for a moment, searching the dark stairwell ahead for enemies. After a thorough probe, he motioned for them to continue. Both brothers were intrigued to hear a gnome perspective of their history.

  “Where was I?” Bipp said. “Right...the refugees. So, of course, our goodly ancestors took your people in. We even made homes for the humans and showed them lands they could live in and survive. We taught them how to farm the soil of Vanidriell and helped build towns for them to live in cohabitation with us.”

  Grubble growled, listening to the engineer’s retelling of the well-known gnome history.

  “Humans be a greedy lot, though. No offense, I like the two of you well enough, not trying to be insensitive or nothing—you just are. It was not long before humans were setting up laws of their own, forcing goodly gnomes out of their homelands and robbing our people of their birthright. Your original council of twelve stole what we had been ready to freely give, stabbing our kin in the back and becoming violent. So as you can imagine, most gnomes would not be caught dead talking to the lot of you.” Bipp shrugged. He really did like the two of them and was not about to be concerned with old grudges. He would rule his life based on the evidence set before him, a philosophy which most likely led to his becoming an engineer.

  Grubble, on the other hand, despite finding he did not actually mind the Walker brothers, would never bend his mind to accepting humans as anything other than untrustworthy
fiends.

  “That is just awful, Bipp. I am so sorry.” Logan gave a heartfelt apology, one that Corbin was touched to hear, since his brother was not one to show sympathy, being more likely to turn any situation into a joke. “So is that why your nose is so big?” he added, proving Corbin wrong yet again.

  The little gnome giggled at his friend’s teasing until Grubble stopped dead in his tracks and turned to point a hairy finger at them.

  “Ye think it’s funny, do ye?” Grubble scolded. “Yer people come down here and ruin everything for us good folk, and ye laugh about it?” He clearly forgot himself, raising his voice and turning puffy cheeked as he spoke.

  “No, Grubble,” Corbin said. “My brother did not mean to offend you, and we certainly don’t think what happened back then was a matter of comedy either.”

  “Damn straight it’s not,” Grubble said. “Look around ye. Does this look like something to laugh about?” He spat on the ground in disgust, catching some of the flecks in his beard.

  “Now, Grubble…we don’t know this was human work,” Bipp said.

  “Who else could have done this? Everything they done touched of ours turned to rot. Mark my words, that little secret old man Beauford was tellin’ ye to find, it’s just proof of the human evil that done cursed great Ul’kor.” The gnome was speaking a little too loudly now for Corbin’s comfort.

  “Look, you better calm down,” Corbin said. “Any louder and the whole city is going to know we are here.”

  “Well, shut yer yap then,” Grubble said, turning his back on them and stomping up the stairs.

  The companions marched on for half a day, making their way up through the cursed, crumbling deserted spire. Sometimes it was hours between cobold sightings, while at other times the area was practically overflowing with the stinking humanoids, slowing their progress to a crawl.

  At times like that, they would find themselves slinking through shadows and behind any cover they could find. Somehow, either through sheer luck or high skill, or perhaps a little of both, they made it through the cobolds’ stinking ranks without a single fight.

  The air began to carry a different scent to Logan, less musty, and he hoped they were climbing out of the dank place. He let out a long sigh when they ducked through the last stairwell out into the cool cavern air, surrounded by ancient towering structures. The perimeter of the upper city was surrounded by low-lying stone rails, built to stop the unwary from falling off the edge of the aerie. Gripping a cold, moss-covered railing; Logan peered over the edge. Far below, the bridge they had crossed now looked like a miniature version of itself, silhouetted by the pitch black of the chasm underneath.

  The two gnomes took in the scene with heart-swelling awe and a profound pride, knowing they were the first of their people to behold the city in centuries. Colorful stained-glass domed towers riddled the tightly packed buildings, with all manner of gargoyles carved around their tops. One structure was large and squat, held aloft by spiraled columns so thick it would take five gnomes hand to hand to wrap their arms around them. Parts of its roof had caved in long ago and were now overgrown with thorny vines. The ceiling of the immense cavern was lined with a carpet of glowing blue moss, which blanketed the entire city in a faint eerie glow.

  “We are going to need to rest for a short while at least,” Corbin said.

  “Ach, I hate to admit it, but the man’s right,” Grubble said. “Let’s see where we can find some shelter.”

  Bipp gave an involuntary shudder as they made their way down the abandoned cobblestone road. He could not stop watching the empty window holes on either side of the ancient street. It felt as though there were eyes hiding behind each shadow, following him, even though Corbin assured there were no cobolds inhabiting the area.

  “That should do for a bit,” Grubble said, pointing down a long narrow alleyway at an empty doorway. “Run yer little trick and see if it’s safe.”

  “There is no one there. It’s nothing like the rest of the city. Not even any rats.” Corbin’s throat seemed to go dry as he spoke.

  “Just say it like it is, fancy pants,” Grubble grumbled in annoyance, heading down the alleyway.

  Despite Corbin’s reassurances, Bipp could not help checking the windows and edge of the rooftop as they passed through the cramped alley, thinking that any second something foul was going to jump out and snatch him away. At the end of the alley sat a small round courtyard with a large, crumbling marble fountain, long dried out and stained around its edges with brown smears. At its center rested a broken statue of a winged goddess reaching for the sky.

  “I ain’t going in there,” Bipp croaked as they approached the open doorway of an ancient bathhouse.

  “Bah, ye been hanging around with the human here too long if yer being afraid of a little bit of shadows.” Grubble was cross to think a good gnome like Bipp would let some unlit room get the better of him. Gnomes had been living in the dark caverns of Vanidriell since the beginning of the Third Age. Anyhow, light was for surface dwellers.

  “It’ll be okay, Bipp,” Logan said. “Corbin says there’s no one around. We should be safe here, for a while at least.” Logan’s coaxing worked and he led his friend into the shelter.

  There was a little discussion over whether they should start a fire to warm up. However, Corbin and Grubble both reasoned it would not be worth the risk, with the chance of cobolds spotting the flames and smoke outweighing the idea of warm toes.

  “I’ll take first watch while you guys get some rest,” Logan offered, and they all settled in for some much-needed sleep.