“Just try and keep up.” Saberrak jogged ahead.
“You have a lot of doubts, Zen, make sure that of the four of us are never among them.” Shinayne ran after her scouting partner.
“Aye, won’t happen again. Farewell Marlennak and great kings. Kakisteele, we be comin’.” Zen looked to the dark mountaintops, smiling as he charged ahead.
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“Wha…wha…arrgghhh…uhhh…what is it then?”
“Brother, ye’ drink too much, makes ye’ hard to wake up.”
“Me neck, where the hells am I?”
“Historium, sleepin’ with yer’ head down on the table. High Hammer found somethin’ o’ interest. Come look.” Drodunn smacked his brother on the back of the head, enough to widen his eyes.
“Been forever it seems, and just somethin’ o’ interest? I’d o’ found the damn lost mines myself by now, if they existed.” Tannek hated the smell of books, this was the only place in Marlennak there was never to be any excitement.
“Right here, right here it is boys.” Brunnwik pointed down at a page, a page among thousands within the fifty or more tomes he had strewn all over the massive stone tables. Sconces of divine light flickered, the silence was choking, and three dwarves sat alone amidst thousands upon thousands of years of history, locked in the top room, in secret.
“Too tired to read it, what is it?”
“It says that a lady named Undrabek died in travel to the Zuran Mountains, all her belongings to her eldest daughter, Gherrina, one of four children that made the trip to Fazurand just over two thousand years ago. The deceased had a surname she wished not to be mentioned, but for posterity, twas Sheldathain.” Brunnwik smiled, his wrinkles above the gray beard tightened.
“So, if there is anything, it is in Fazurand. Likely tucked away with all their wealth and vaults under the temples.” Drodunn sat, not very inspired at the latest.
“Nope. Says here, in this book, Undrabek children taken into adopted family, named Arnepyke, three girls, a boy, and unnamed heirlooms of great value.” The High Hammer sighed, looking to his lesser priest and to the Southern Marshall.
“So, they got adopted in, normal for any clan that lost their parents. What of it?” Tannek put his head back down.
“Fazurand always denotes each and every bit of value, down to the last gold coin when that happens. Like all the rest here, except this one and one other out of thousands.”
“So they had something, maybe important, something they did not want to---“Drodun was cut off.
“…did not want anyone, in any city, to ever know of. Exactly. Then, Gherrina Arnepyke marries Ackupha Joudeppe, a gem cutter with a very deep set o’ mines he owns. She takes the name Joudeppe. They has themselves a girl, firstborn, name her Vulanri, which means what? Come on, what does it mean?” Brunnwik barked the question to his two assistants.
“Means hope, don’t it?” Tannek did not follow.
“Exactly. Just like the tablet, “carry the Hope”. Says here that Hope Joudeppe, inherits untold heirlooms, second place it is not specific, as Fazurand always is. War of some dragons and giants, blah, blah, blah, and right here!” Brunnwik was stirring them up, excited more than he could handle.
“What? What does it say?” Drodunn was anxious.
Brunnwik jumped to another book, the brothers Anduvann in tow over his shoulder. “Gherrina and Ackupha are among those killed in Fazurand in the war. But, Vulanri, Hope, Joudeppe leaves the eastern dwarven city, and to here!”
Another book, another table, this one about Boraduum and its lineages. “Vulanri Joudeppe enters Boraduum, and eventually marries who…?....who…?”
“Well who then dammit, I be’ all excited here!” Tannek growled.
“King Nentariun the Fourth, of clan Thalanaxe. Yes, clan Thalanaxe boys! Says she brought three great gifts that will not be mentioned beyond the iron box they are contained in, are of sacred nature, and will be passed down to their children without written word due to historical and religious value. Nentariun the Fourth was the great, great, great, great, great grandfather of Kimmirik Thalanaxe, Azenairk’s father.” Brunnwik breathed out, tears in his eyes, matching the eyes of the only other two in the room.
“Dust, the deed, and the key. How many is that?” Tannek whispered, afraid to talk.
“Tis three, brother. Three items in an iron box.” Drodunn sniffled.
“I don’t believe it, we just let the heir of Kakisteele into our city, showed him around, and made fun of him in front o’ fifty dwarven lords, and our two kings.” High Hammer gulped, wiped his eyes, and looked at all the books.
“We just met a king?” Tannek still could not fathom it.
“Aye brother, we need to tell our two kings and the nobles o’ the thronesroom. Find Azenairk Thalanaze and his companions, and settle this the right way. They be stayin at the Pub o’ the Bearded Hammer, they bought rooms for two nights, send messengers to fetch em’.” Drodunn looked around, no, no one else here.
“Aye, I will.”
“The armor, the crown, the hammer o’ that strange gold steel, we need to send for it and get it to its rightful owner.” Brunnwik sighed, straightening his robes, knowing it would be an argument indeed to admit how they found their answers.
“And how will we explain all that, the crypt and all?” Tannek stood, stretched, and slapped his face a bit to make sure he was not dreaming.
“I will accept all the blame there, brothers Anduvann, no worries.”
“No, can’t do that. I’ll stand with ye’.”
“Me too, all in this together now. Stength in numbers.”
“Allright, allright, I don’t be likin’ you two that much now, but enough to share some blame, let’s go to the kings.” High Hammer Brunnwik led them out of the Historium, past the Temple o’ the Cracked Wall, and into Castle Vairrek.
An hour passed, the empty thronesroom sat quiet. The guard had said the kings were awake, but nothing more. Another hour, Tannek was sleeping, Drodunn too, and the guard told the High Hammer that the kings were having breakfast, but dressed for court. One more hour, the guard saw three sleeping dwarves in the thronesroom and decided not to tell them the kings were on their way, each with the noble advisors they had eaten their morning meals with.
“Well, seems the High Hammer and his priest, and the Southern Marshall, all be sleepin’ it off in our room, eh’ brother? Must be imporatant.”
“Aye, let em rest. Not much on the agenda today in any regard.” King Rallik waved his hand, noble dwarves taking seats around the snoring three.
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“Storms to the south, blistering sun rising high ahead in the west, another beautiful day in the Misathi!” Zen could not have been happier to be out in the open again, going the right direction made him feel closer to fulfilling his promise with each step.
“Not sure I agree with the cheer, but the storm is certain. Heading west, like us.” James held his hand over his eyes, his sweat smelled like whiskey and mead, his fingers trembling as he stayed behind his friends.
“Aye, strange clouds there. Have ye’ seen our scouts Gwenneth?”
“No, nor our royal escorts, nor any shade. Just heat, red rock, mountains, and more heat. Did I mention how hot it is?” Gwenne had changed into her blue student robes, still dark and absorbing the rays of the sun, but better than her master graduate black garments.
“Thank Alden for white tabards and the breeze in the pass.”
“Hold up now. Somethin’ not right ahead. Look.” Zen put his hand up, gaze focused to the south side of the vale.
There to the left and halfway up the side of a small peak, stood Shinayne and Saberrak. The rock was scorched black hundreds of feet across and half a mile long. It looked like a line of black ink had been drawn from above across the slope. The elven noble and the gray minotaur stood amidst some sort of rubble at the genesis of the burned scar of stone, stood still and quiet.
“I counted fourteen, and twice th
at in humans with melted metal over their bones. Two of the totems, one there and one over there, also burned to near cinders. Quite a battle.” Shinayne looked over the charred remains of human soldiers, horses, and skeletons nearly three times her own height.
“Same giants, Mogi as the dwarves called them, like the one that Azenairk killed. Horses with leather saddles, humans with steel, all burned in a group here. The line continues, so the dragon was flying past them when it happened. Less than two days I would say.” Saberrak could smell the black blood, the Mogi blood, even after being burned alive by the flaming breath of the dark wyrm. He looked to the totems, pieces of horned skull seemed to watch him, perhaps only because he knew they were beacons.
“Seems your winged friend does not care for humans, horses, or the Mogi giants, Gwenne.” She spoke loud enough for her approaching companions to hear. Shinayne kicked the horned skull from the ruined totem that Saberrak was staring with.
“I don’t think she cares for anyone, or anything. Just revenge and fire and food. They are ahead of us, then, right?”
“Would seem that way, keep a watchful eye up in the air everyone.” Saberrak huffed.
“She had riders, three if I recall. A woman, a man, and a red minotaur. These were some of those soldiers from Willborne. I wonder if they are hunting the dragon, or us?” James was confused.
“Let em all kill each other, we just keep ahead and stay outta their way. What is that over there though?” Zen pointed toward the end of the line of blackened rock. Small piles of something had attracted crows.
Shinayne led, then Saberrak behind her. The rest trapsed down to the level ground of the valley and kept pace. As she got closer, the crows flapped in defiance of interruption. They warned with caws and squawks, but eventually took flight to the peaks as the elf came close.
“Oh Siril have mercy.”
“What is it?”
“Hundreds of chewed off hooves with horseshoes, piles of armor without bodies, and a blanket of blood and scraps covers it all. She fed here.” Shinayne was revolted, the view was horrific.
“She does not like steel then, good to know.” Saberrak huffed. The humor did nothing for his friend.
“What is it up there?!” James yelled to Saberrak and Shinayne.
“Tell them it’s nothing, no need to worry them.” Saberrak’s deep voice was low and quiet.
“We cannot kill that dragon, it is impossible. That beast could take on armies, cities, it melts the stone and steel with its breath. I think there is plenty of need for concern here.” Shinayne waved her hand for them to move on and shook her head casually. She was worried, but agreed that the others did not need to see this grotesque scene, nor hear of it.
“It does not know where we are going, and it will tire of searching if it is truly looking for us.” Saberrak tried to be reassuring.
“But I felt it, in my meditations, it is looking for us, horned one. We killed its children.”
“Then we will do the same to the mother if she crosses us again. I do not fear---“
“You don’t fear anything, but some things you should.”
“Why?”
“Keeps you wary, on your toes, keeps your edge, I don’t know. Healthy fear is good sometimes.” Shinayne walked down the slope.
“I have my edge, always. I fail to see the point of fear. It is a disease, a sickness, spreading among people and rotting the individual. It serves no purpose that a healthy instinct of survival does not already provide.” Saberrak followed.
“Survival instinct? With a dragon?”
“All the same. Kill it before it kills you. Find a weak or soft spot if there is one, and tear it open.” Saberrak huffed.
“Sounds bestial, like an animal or savage.”
“Thank you, minotaur will do just fine.”
“Well beast, lead on then.” The highborne waited for her gray gladiator to take the lead as they passed their three friends.
Hours passed through the high peaks of the Misathi Mountains with but an occasional bird or hyena in the distance. Sweltering heat rose as a constant mirage ahead of them. Shade directed their steps more than direction. The valley was barren, devoid of plants or trees, not an oasis of fresh water shown itself through the day.
Rocks would tumble from the clifftops now and again. As they looked quickly, nothing was there. The elven swordswoman and the gray minotaur would climb to inspect, finding nothing each time. Totems of horned skulls dotted the trail, standing silent and watching without eyes as the five companions traversed Deadman’s Pass.
As evening came and the moons appeared, strange noises rose from the south and north, echoing among the numerous vales. There was chanting in the distance, then closer, then far again. It was no known language to any of them. Sometimes seven or eight voices, at times but one, all deep female voices accompanied with the intermittent scream of ecstasy or pain, it was hard to tell. Clouds brought the breezes and cast the sun quickly to the east, and the chanting grew louder, closer, yet nothing could be found as to the source.
“That noise is not what I be wishin’ for after a hard day o’ travel. No sir, someone shut it up.” Zen took off his armor, piece by piece, then his shield, and lastly his enchanted helmet.
“Night is upon us, too dangerous to go scouting. I need water, lots of water.” James drank from his waterskin, then spit it out all over the red rocks.
“Alllgggttthh! It’s sour! And, it is yellow! What did you get this filled with, Shinayne? Tastes like, vinegar with spoiled meat.” James reached for his other waterskin. He opened it and smelled, it was the same.
“Mine as well.” Gwenneth smelled her water.
“And mine. They all be spoiled! Elf, where did you get---“
“I filled them from the well, with the dwarves in the south gate. It was water, I drank it then, we drank it all day. Mine too, it is polluted with something.” Shinayne felt something, the skin on her left cheek and ear were tingling. To the north, something was there.
“The food, look.” Saberrak unrolled one of the bundles of dried meats, bread and cheese. It was dry, curled, brown and black as if it had been left outside for many days.
“That was fresh this morning when we left, I assure you. You all know, we ate early this afternoon, it was fine then.” Shinayne was flustered, hungry, thirsty, and now thouroughly irritated. She looked to the north. A set of dark eyes on a large head caught a glimmer of moonlight, just enough for her to see before it vanished behind the cliff.
Shinayne ran up the slope in the dark, her friends calling to her with loud whispers. She heard the thing running away, down the other side, long fast strides, heavy steps. Faster she went, straight up, her hands scraping the rock as she pulled herself up even faster. Carice and Elicras were out in a flash as she reached the summit of the small mount, nothing. Another valley appeared into more mountains, bluffs, and crags. No motion stirred, nothing caught her eyes, whatever it was, was gone.
“Damn. I will find you, whoever you are. Be sure of that.” Shinayne T’Sarrin sheathed her blades. She stood, watched, and waited for whatever hunted her and her friends.
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Smack!
Smack!
“Allright, allright! Who is it then?” Tannek stretched his arms up, his face stuck to the stone with his own drool, neck cramped and aching.
“Get up Marshall, now please.” It was the voice of the High Hammer, he stood, opened his eyes, then looked again.
“Oh Vundren’s shinguards, we in trouble then?” Tannek saw the fifty or so nobles, his brother and several more priests of the temple, the kings, and another two hundred dwarves of various northern and southern families. The room was full, he was in the center, with Drodunn and the High Hammer, all eyes staring at them.
“Aye.” Drodunn commented quietly.
“Aye and then some.” Brunnwik said in turn.
Tannek bowed to each king, receiving nods in return. He had never seen the room so quiet, n
or so packed with beards.
“Tannek Anduvann, Marshall o’ the Southern Outguard Scouts, ye’ be charged with breakin’ into the sacred crypts, defacing the burial marker o’ a former dwarven king, opening a sarcophagous o’ said king, and then failin’ in yer’ duties as Marshall by sleepin’ in the Historium and me thronesroom instead o’ takin’ charge o’ yer’ men. What be yer’ answer?” King Rallik was not happy, he seemed embarrassed to list the charges to one of his best dwarves.
Tannek looked to Drodunn and Brunnwik, both holding their hammer and moons symbols from around their necks in quiet prayer. The room was all looking at him now. He reached for a mug of mead, shook his head and smiled, then drank it down. He set it quietly on the table, not feeling too vigorous yet.
“Aye, naye, naye, and aye.”
“Yer’ brother and the High Hammer already said aye to each charge! Don’t be tryin’ to lie or sneak on this, Marshall!” King Therrak of the North slammed his axe tip down hard from his throne.
“Aye I broke in! Naye, the placard was for a king that ain’t buried there. Naye, the coffin got no damn body, so I didn’t violate nothin’ but an empty suit o’ armor! And aye, I fell asleep after! Your majesties.” Tannek bowed, angry disposition on his brow and in his eyes.
“Watch yer’ words Anduvann, ye’ be talkin’ to a king! These charges be serious!” Rallik looked at him hard, almost pleading for him to be quiet as much as he was angry.
“Aye, could be. But I was talkin’ to a king yesterday, the one that is heir to Kakisteele! I be sure that he would like to know what we found out!”
“Brother, be quiet now.”
“That is another matter entirely! I heard o’ yer’ books and findings from the High Hammer, I heard it from Thalanaxe and his elf who heard it from a dragon, and I ain’t gonna listen to that fairy tale rubbish no more! The sentence for breakin’ into those there crypts o’ great kings, sealed by the temple o’ Vundren, is death!” King Therrak boomed across the thronesroom, his voice like thunder on a bad day.
“Tannek, just be calm now.” Brunnwik whispered.
“Aye? Death is it?” Tannek was not listening.
The Exodus Sagas: Book III - Of Ghosts And Mountains Page 37
