“What? Who is the king of the skies?” Finley asked, “and why do you always talk in riddles,” he shouted as Heralin faded off into the distance, leaving his dreams to once more become his own.
He awoke sharply, his eyes flickering open, only to realise all was well. He rolled over just a little, to see his mother asleep on the bed next to his own, and could sense Sessi lying down, now also awake, beside Karesh. This was clearly not the hour for getting up, so after shuffling around a little trying to get comfortable, he closed his eyes once more and hoped his sleep would be unhindered.
Chapter 4.
After a rather boring breakfast of toasted bread spread with butter, and a strong, sweet tea to wash it down, the group were almost glad to be leaving their temporary accommodation. Galdrac had not managed to secure the purchase of any horses but had succeeded in hiring a waggon and driver for the trip. The mage forewarned them that all they might want to wrap up, as the lands this far north were usually a little cooler than those they were more accustomed to. Once outside of the main city they would be out in the mountains where even this time of year there was often snow on the peaks.
After walking through the large cavernous city streets of Durn Raldun, the group made their way to the main entrance. A massive arched gateway sat between two huge statues, one depicting a dwarf warrior wielding an axe, with the other one holding a short sword and shield. Galdrac explained they were supposedly the guardians of the city, and that there were two more outside similarly posed. “I think it will take a bit more than statues to fight the darkness,” Finley replied, although Galdrac merely let the sarcastic comment pass without answering.
The waggon stood waiting for them just to the right of the main entrance. A strange looking vehicle that resembled a small house on wheels, “We travel inside during the day. It’s a bit cramped, but it should help keep us a little warmer,” Galdrac told them as they all looked a little perplexed.
“And what about at night?” Leyna asked.
“The driver and his wife sleep in the waggon, we have to make do with a canvas tent that fixes to the side of it.”
The old mage shook the hand of the dwarf with whom he had struck the deal the day before, and then repeated the greeting to the female dwarf stood beside him. Galdrac then introduced the group that would be travelling, waiting for each to greet the two dwarfs before moving to the next. Finley stood last in line, and could not help but stare at the female dwarf. In all honesty aside from the fact he could make out she had breasts, facially there was little difference. While the words, “She’s almost as hairy as he is,” were probably not the best form of greeting, he found himself saying them anyway.
As was usually the case in these matters, a silence fell, an awkwardness of his making. Not quite sure what to say or expect from his thoughtless comment, he was glad the female took it merely as an observation and not an insult. “Aye, I like to keep my beard trimmed and tidy, unlike you Waldrim,” she said using the strange accent used by all the dwarfs. Finley looked over to Galdrac and could tell just by the glare being sent his way, exactly what he thought.
The driver, Waldrim, was apparently the best driver in Durn Raldun, and if he were to be believed, his wife Trata, the prettiest dwarf. Finley thought that if she was indeed the most beautiful dwarf in the city, that did not say much for the others, although this time he managed to keep his opinion to himself.
Drawn by two horses, the waggon was narrow and longer than normal. Inside were a couple of seats, which apparently doubled up for beds at night time, and even a small window in the door at the rear. The roof was curved, although only just big enough for Finley to sit upright in; Karesh had to slouch and stoop slightly to fit in. There was even a strange cast iron stove at one end, which thankfully already burned, giving the small confined space a lovely warmth. “They use that for cooking and boiling water for drinks as well,” he told them.
As they started off, the waggon wobbled and bounced about a little before it settled back down. The large entrance into the dwarf capital was grand indeed, as they waited for the vast iron portcullis to be lifted before being able to start their journey proper. As the waggon slowly rolled forward, Finley, with Sessi lying down beside his feet, peered out of the back window. As Galdrac had described, two more statues, probably even bigger than the ones inside, stood guard beside the entranceway.
The sound made by the wheels changed for a little while as Galdrac explained the city was approached via a drawbridge that covered a vast chasm. The entrance way for all intent and purposes was a little like the bridge that approached Lochgorm, although it spanned a deep ravine rather than water. The waggon moved across the approach way setting a slow but steady pace. The further away they got Finley could actually see just what a strange place Durn Raldun actually was.
The approach way was indeed a little like a bridge, about ten or twelve paces across. The entire city it seemed was built into the actual mountain itself, with a massive façade built affront of it. Aside from the two huge statues either side of the main entrance, a long stretch of stone built wall spread out both ways, almost like the entranceway and frontage to a grand fortress.
The track they were on went winding downwards, swinging one way, then the other, causing the waggon to jolt about every now and then causing Karesh to bang his head; something Galdrac seemed to find to his amusement. They heard a knock, and a small hatch slid open at the front end, “Everything alright in there?” Trata asked poking her head inside.”
“Everything is fine,” Leyna replied before anybody else had a chance to say otherwise.
As they appeared to keep going downwards, it wasn’t long before even the small window on the rear door became useless. A thick mist descended around the waggon, meaning Finley’s view to the outside was all but obscured. Out of the blue, he decided to tell them about his dream from the previous night, explaining he had made yet another friend.
“You spoke to Thedan? God of the dwarfs.” Galdrac asked.
“Yes,” Finley replied as if it was just an everyday thing to be doing.
“And pray tell, what great wisdom did he divulge to you,” the mage asked, sounding a little more sarcastic than usual.
Finley thought about what had gone on, and although answering Galdrac’s question, he did so only after explaining everything else. Abalyon was coming after him and still needed him to rule the world on his behalf. Thedan had said very little of note, other than to antagonise Abalyon, who had appeared to storm off in a huff saying he would destroy the dwarfs. They seemed a bit more interested when he informed them that Heralin had stated that they were on the right track and that he should ‘seek the king of the skies’, although she never gave an indication as to who that was.
Leyna listened as her son talked, although she was confused as to why the dwarf god had made an appearance and not contributed anything of note. “Are you sure Thedan did not say anything. Try and remember,” she said, leaning forward and placing her hand on his knee. Finley had already told her that he always remembered everything in his dreams, although it was quite likely he had omitted to mention something. He thought back to the words Thedan had spoken, “He said the gods have given me the knowledge and the means to defeat Abalyon’s army. I just have to work out how.”
“That’s helpful,” Galdrac added.
“Well, it is. At least we know that Abalyon’s hordes can be defeated,” Leyna replied, looking on the positive side of things.
The waggon pulled to a halt, and the dwarfs up front clambered down and walked around to the back to open the door. After several hours of slow, laborious travel it was time to call a halt to the day’s proceedings and make camp for the night. As agreed before they had set out, the two dwarfs would be the ones sleeping inside, while Finley and the others would make do with the canvas awning that attached to the outside of the waggon. Personally, he for one was glad to be out of the cramped confinement, even if it was rather chilly outside; a problem not helped by the
fact they had spent the entire journey sat beside a red hot stove.
Although they were responsible for feeding themselves, meaning no hot meal, Trata passed them out a kettle of hot water so they could at least have a warm drink. The canvas awning was small, but at least it enabled them to stretch their legs, something that had been impossible when travelling. Finley stood outside their canvas shelter using the link with Sessi to peruse the area around them. His human sight might not have seen more than a few metres into the misty surroundings, but through Sessi, he could see and sense everything.
The wolf moved through the thick shrubs that appeared to cover most of the hillside on which they had stopped. The scent of an animal drifted towards him on the chilly evening breeze, although Sessi did not feel in any way threatened by it. Finley circled right around their camp, taking a wide berth away from the resting horses, so as not to spook them. The air here was certainly much colder than either he or Sessi were used to, but the wolf appeared less bothered by it, happy at last to be able to have a good run out.
Happy there was no immediate threat in the vicinity, and no hint of the scent of any balgraf nearby, Finley had Sessi make his way back to the waggon. As he did so, the wolf heard a strange noise far off into the distance, causing him to pause. Finley could tell that the call was not one Sessi had heard before either, but despite sniffing the air in several different places and listening carefully for it to sound again, the pair of them found nothing and eventually gave up.
Their meal was a little demoralising, being as it was just a few pieces of sliced, buttered bread, followed by a few pieces of fruit. At least they had tea to drink, and although Finley was not too keen on the elven variety, the fact he had a hot drink made the taste somewhat less displeasing. After they had eaten, Galdrac briefly explained where they would be going tomorrow, and just who they were meeting. Although even Leyna seemed less than pleased when he divulged that the dwarf he sought, may even be dead, being as he had not seen her for several years.
Inside the canvas awning, it was a little chilly, although at least the dwarfs supplied them with blankets. Karesh, as always seemed to be the case, appeared to hardly feel the cold and was quite happy without. Finley felt it was going to be a long uncomfortable night, and wondered even if he did manage to sleep, whether or not his dreams would be haunted again.
Chapter 5.
Akeev awoke, his mind full of strange, foreign images. The sound of the sea washing up onto the beach certainly made for a welcome familiarity, and the sense things were as they should be. After taking several deep breaths, he stood and brushed the sand that had settled on him during the night.
Home for Akeev, as it was for many struggling to survive on the islands, was merely a crude shelter made from scraps of wood and palm leaves. These made up a rudimentary roof supported by four posts, which usually kept off most of the rain unless it was windy; in which case it merely blew in as there were no walls to stop it. As was routine, Akeev then headed to the centre of the troll settlement to line up for food.
Being as there was very little to spare, each person had to work to earn the right to eat, something which over the years had seen Akeev go hungry on more than one occasion. This morning, however, he was due to receive his feed, having completed his tasks the previous day under the supervision of an elder. In an attempt at keeping a civilised society, the elders taught the youngsters, the history of their race. Perhaps one day, when the taint was lifted off their homelands, the knowledge they were passed down, may help them to build a better future. Akeev’s job yesterday had been helping one of the elders teach the younglings about fishing, something by coincidence he would be partaking in later.
The queue for breakfast was as per usual, long and slow moving, and by the time Akeev made his way to the front, there was very little left. Much to his annoyance, he was given a small portion of what was commonly referred to as fish-gruel and a little coconut milk. The gruel was primarily made up from the parts of the fish not usually eaten, dried seaweed and a little coconut. All this was mulched together with a little seawater and served up as a kind of slop. While nutritionally it may have been lacking, it did at least serve the purpose of keeping hunger pains away.
Akeev felt angry that his life was so hard and unfair. The elders always ate the best food for themselves, despite the fact they never actually helped to catch or grow it. With his annoyance still playing on his mind, he wandered over the island to where he had buried the wooden stick. After locating the large rock that he used as a marker, he used his fingers and dug down into the sand to find what he was looking for. Just as he had left it a few days earlier, he pulled the object out of the sand and brushed the excess away.
As he was due to go out on the fishing boat in a short while, he hoped nobody would notice him holding onto a strange looking stick. They had several fishing poles made up from different sized pieces of wood, which they interlocked into each other, and his stick would just look like one of those. After rubbing his fingers along the strange markings for a while, wondering what was so special about this piece of wood, he lost track of time.
Akeev reached the part of the beach where their small fishing boat was ready to launch. To call it a boat was a little far-fetched, being as it was basically a mishmash of logs and timber, lashed together with twine. However, despite its appearance, it served its purpose and allowed the trolls of the island to venture further out to sea and fish. The only problem being, that if they encountered any choppy or rough waters they had to quickly make their back.
Once Akeev had clambered aboard, holding tightly on to his strange stick in one hand, he waited for those on the beach to push them off. With three others on board, one in each corner to maintain balance, they would use the two crude looking paddles to manoeuvre their way some considerable distance away from the safety of the island. Over the years and at certain times of particular seasons, they had learned where the best fishing spots were. While they did have some small nets, they were only really useful in shallow waters, and hence the fish from deeper depths had to be caught the more traditional way using a rod, line and baited hook.
Akeev felt a little uneasy as a larger than expected wave lifted them up and dropped them back down quicker than he had expected. Feeling like his stomach was about to empty itself of its contents, he held on tightly to the boat with his free hand. The two paddling at the front of the craft seemed to be struggling to make headway, as he noticed them being dragged off-course.
Today they were supposed to head further north-west of their island. Instead, they appeared to be going northeast, and heading nearer the mainland than they should. Despite the best efforts of the two most senior members of their crew, they were pulled into choppier waters, and Akeev started to fear for their safety. “We should turn back!” the troll sat opposite him called to the two at the front.
“That’s what we're trying to do, but something is pulling us this way. We’re out of control,” came a less than comforting reply.
The waves grew larger, and Akeev was now seriously worried that he was never going to make it back. He wasn’t even sure how long their craft would last in rough waters and feared should any of the bindings snap it would break up. Despite all the concerns and the fact that he was struggling to hold on with one hand, he felt there was no way he was releasing the stick he clasped tightly in the other.
Akeev struggled for breath as a massive wave hit them, knocking him off the boat and into the water. Thankfully, he, like all trolls was an accomplished swimmer, although the choppy sea meant it difficult for him to keep afloat. He heard the shouts and cries of his crew members and caught sight of them quite some distance away. The boat was now moving quicker than he could swim, and despite his best efforts, the gap between them grew substantially.
Breathing hard, and treading water, still clasping onto his strange stick, he looked behind him. The mainland was actually nearer than he thought, and it seemed the tide was shoving him that way. After one la
st despairing look at the boat, he made the decision to turn about and swim with the current; he would take his chances on the mainland.
Despite knowing the likelihood of survival were slim, even if he could make it ashore, it was surely a better option than drowning. He was aware that there had not been any chance of him ever catching back up with the boat, in fact, he wasn’t even sure the boat would even make it back in one piece even if he had. That was not the case anyway, and so he used every last ounce of his energy to swim towards the shore.
Exhausted, and barely able to commit to another stroke, he felt his feet hit the sandy bottom of the shoreline. Breathing heavily, he stood upright, the waves still crashing around him, and walked slowly towards the land. With his strange stick still in his hand, he dropped down to his knees as he finally made it out of the water, before slumping face-first into the sand. Bereft of the ability to push on any further, he closed his eyes and drifted into unconsciousness.
Akeev was uncertain how long he had been out, but when he awoke the sun had passed its zenith, and the tide had ebbed a good forty paces or more behind him. With every muscle in his body aching, he managed to clamber to his feet and stagger up the sandy beach towards the sand dunes that obscured his view of the lands beyond. With no idea where he was, other than the mainland, he looked behind him to see if he could spot the three islands offshore. At least if he could see them, he would know where about on the mainland he had landed.
The Dragon Stone Page 3
