The Mulwurf saw at the last moment that Arghen was braced for its charge and tried to turn aside by rising up onto the wall and running over him. Arghen switched the angle of his spear, and the sharp tip of the spear taken from his Halsferian dance partner scored a long slice in its belly. The Mulwurf roared and jumped completely over him, sacrificing the advantage of position to save its skin. Landing, the monster doubled back over itself and came at Arghen again with its front claws, trying to knock the spear out of his hands. Arghen was too canny for that, having had experience in Mulwurf fighting before, and he managed to always have the spear tip right where it would hurt the beast the most. After a few jabs at him from alternating paws, it crouched back and then threw itself at him.
But Arghen had expected that, too. He dove and rolled under its body with exquisite timing, and the two opponents ended up in the other’s place. As the creature doubled back over itself to come at him again, Arghen struck with his spear in the flexible hip joint. The creature roared with pain—taking an injury to an over-flexed muscle was particularly painful. Arghen knew that only too well from experience on the training fields of the Relkanavian Military. He drew his weapon back and almost avoided a hit, but the creature was too fast. The Mulwurf hit him with the claws of the leg whose hip he’d just damaged, but because he had just wounded it, the blow was not hard. It was, however, still enough to send Arghen smashing into the side of the tunnel wall. He lost his breath for a moment but powered on through it and threw himself to the side, saving himself from the next swipe by the undamaged foreleg. However, that was a mistake on the Mulwarf’s part. The wounded hip collapsed, dropping the beast halfway to the floor.
Arghen took advantage of that. He leapt in and speared close to the same spot again, and left his weapon in the beast to make sure that the thing would stay at least partially down. The beast roared again and turned to bite him. Arghen whipped out his sword and rammed it through the soft pallet of the huge mouth coming down at him. The sword sliced up into what passed for the brain of the beast, and it was instantly killed. Unfortunately for Arghen, the beast’s head collapsed towards him and the tip of one of the fangs pierced through the chain into the skin on his arm, drawing blood.
Instantly, Arghen’s head swam. He had enough presence of mind to realize there was a pain in his arm, and after a few fumbles managed to get the big white sharp thing that was causing him pain out of him. Once the pain lessened he became aware that the big animal he was next to had wondrously soft fur. He petted it for a while, then dreamily bade it good bye and unhurriedly wandered down the tunnel with no particular destination or direction in mind.
Arghen reached a huge cave, and stood and stared in wonder and delight at it. This was the biggest cavern he had ever seen! Frozen waves of brown and grey rocks rippled in pleasing patterns up the walls to be lost in the ceiling above. The patterns of the air moss and lichen in here were extremely beautiful, and complimented the artistry of the waves of rock. He reached down and felt the floor—the floor was the smoothest he’d ever felt rock to be. It was fascinating to feel his fingers slipping over the stone, only occasionally catching on parts that weren’t maybe quite as smooth. He stood up to survey the cavern, and to his delight saw many tunnel entrances leading from it. It was the most he’d ever encountered in one place, and he dizzily dreamed of all the secrets that might be found if he could follow them all. Movement across the way caught his attention, and to his surprise he saw a faint glowing that was not lichen light. It looked like a little flame, which was unusual because flames belonged only on cooking fires and this one instead was dancing about in mid-air. Intrigued, Arghen crossed the cavern towards it. The light went down a tunnel, and Arghen followed it dreamily. The dancing flame was always on ahead of him. He couldn’t catch up to it no matter how hard he tried. He absently noted the grade in the tunnels was trending upwards, but he didn’t care. All he wanted was to explore the mystery of the light, and he kept putting one foot in front of the other in its pursuit.
Arghen came back to himself some unknown time later. He had no notion of how long or far he had walked, and he was bone weary. But the flame maddeningly was still far in front of him. Why was he following this flicker of fire? A moment of panic followed close on that question—where were his weapons? Understanding came: he’d been poisoned by the Mulwurf, and in his altered state, he had left his weapons behind when he had latched onto the flame and followed it unknowingly. It was probably pure luck that he had not discarded his pack from his back as well. It was a wonder that he hadn’t been attacked by anything in his vulnerable state. He had to wonder at the stamina of the light-bearer—he or she had to be as weary of walking as he. He also wondered who, or what, the light-bearer could be. An enemy? Or a neutral? There was only one way to find that out.
“Hello?” he called out.
The light went immediately still. Arghen put on a burst of speed to rush up to where he thought it might have been, and found the flame was a large, fat candle in the hands of a young female dressed in a simple blue shirt and a red skirt. Looking closer, Arghen realized that it was not just any young female, but a young Surface-elf female! She was a little more than half his height, had the rosy skin he’d seen on Surfacers occasionally brought to Relkanav, very green eyes, and hair that was as black as a Conductivus’ eyes when communing with souls.
She is so small that she cannot be above twenty-five, Arghen thought. Before he could even open his mouth to speak, the child said, “Can you help me, please? I am lost, and do not know where I am. I want to go home!”
She burst into tears and threw herself at him, throwing her arms around his waist and holding on tight. Arghen stiffened for only a moment in surprise, then relaxed and gently put his mailed arms around the little girl.
“What is your name, small one?” Arghen asked to buy himself time to recover from the surprise.
“Th–Thera,” she sniffled.
“And how did you get down here?”
“I–I do not know! I was exploring a hill near my settlement when the dirt cracked beneath my feet and I fell into a cave!”
Arghen blinked. “How did you survive such a fall?”
She gasped. “You mean, I could have died?” and started crying again.
Arghen frowned at his verbal clumsiness. He must be truly rattled if he could not manage talking to a little girl.
“Shh, shh. It is over now, and you are safe. You are not hurt, are you?”
“N–no,” she hiccupped.
“That is good. How long have you been down here?”
“I do not know, but I have been walking a long time.”
“Are you hungry?”
Thera looked up at him and her tears dried instantly. “Oh, yes, I am very hungry! Do you have anything I can eat?”
“Here, let us sit down, and we will eat together.”
They sat down side by side and leaned against the small cavern’s wall. Arghen pulled out some of the travel rations and a waterskin from the pack.
“Travel rations are hard, but if you moisten them with a little water, the liquid makes them easier to chew,” he instructed her.
Thera did as he said and soon was nibbling away on the rations, chattering happily at him between bites. Arghen ate silently because inside his mind his thoughts were chaotic. This little girl, if he chose, could be his passage back into Relkanav! He might not make it back into the military on the strength of one little girl Surfacer, but it would save him from banishment. He could enter the civilian fighting arenas, make bets on himself, and live comfortably from his winnings until he earned enough of a reputation to be considered for the Military again. His whole path back flashed into solidity in his mind. He knew exactly what he would have to do.
The little girl’s face turned trustfully up to his as she smiled, and Arghen’s plan fell apart. He couldn’t do it. He had been part of a couple of patrols that had turned Surfacers over to Central Court in the long-ago past, but he had never felt comf
ortable doing that and so had not stayed to be part of the rewards. Nor had he gone to see the Surfacers after they had been turned into tortured, living Art. It was all wrong, he had felt, but it was nothing he could stop.
“I will do my best to help you find a way back to your home. We will search for tunnels that lead up,” he said.
He would not be able to accompany her, but perhaps he could get her close to the surface and help of some form.
The little girl yawned. “I am so sleepy,” she said. “Can we rest first?”
“Of course,” he said.
Arghen made the little girl as comfortable as he could with some of his extra clothes, and soon she settled into sleep curled up beside him. Arghen by this time was almost to the point of sleep-walking himself, so he made up a rude bed for himself. He lay down pillowing his head on the pack. As he closed his eyes, he was startled to see across from him, on the other side of where a camp fire might burn, a completely cloaked and hooded form sitting cross-legged on the ground.
CHAPTER 8
Incredibly, the being had to have appeared from nowhere because Arghen had heard no footsteps announcing an arrival, but that was patently impossible. He lay stunned for a moment and stared. The cloaked form moved slightly and settled the fabric more comfortably about itself, but in the process revealed a sleekly muscled, white arm—whiter than his own. Despite the coloring, he recognized it as belonging to a female Under-elf. He instantly surmised she had to be from his city. Maybe Captain Petrai had been overruled for simple banishment, and the Primus had set a bounty on his head! If so, was this unknown female trying to collect it? And in having found him, this female had found the little girl and would end up taking her as a prize back to Relkanav! The thought of the little girl as an Art exhibit in Central Court was enough to break him from his self-paralysis and restore some of his flagging strength through sheer adrenaline.
He growled as he leapt to his feet, “Relkanavian, you will either leave whole, or we will see if your skills of survival are better than mine!”
The strange female raised her hand in a calming motion. All aggression drained out of his body, taking most of his strength with it. He looked helplessly towards Thera, but she was gone. Arghen sat back down, tired and confused. He couldn’t help but feel there was something else going on that he couldn’t see, but he had no idea of what it could be.
“Better,” the Under-elf female said once he was seated. “Arghen, I am no Relkanavian. You have nothing to fear from Me. In fact, you might even welcome Me before our time here is through.” Her voice was cool and silvery, with just a hint of amusement in it.
His mouth opened in surprise. She wasn’t from Relkanav? he thought. Then who was she? Where was she from? And why was she referring to herself so strongly that I can hear the emphasis on the ‘Me’ that she uses?
Before he could ask anything, she spoke again. “Arghen Spinam, I am outraged on your behalf that you have been unfairly cast out of your dranth corps and city, all for the ‘crime’ of mercy to an opponent that you fought and defeated. But then,” she said with a wink, “I would not have had the pleasure of meeting you if that had not happened, so I must have some small measure of satisfaction that it did.”
Arghen blinked. How had she known what happened on the battlefield? She couldn’t have been there—every Halsferian had been killed. Or had they?
His eyes narrowed at that thought.
“And no, Arghen, I am no Halsferian, either,” she said, like she was replying to the question as if he had asked it out loud.
He blinked. How had she known what I was thinking? If she wasn’t a Relkanavian or a Halsferian, then who is this mysterious being?
There was a smile in the cloaked form’s voice as she said, “I am who I am. Though I am of the Sub-realms, I am not from the Sub-realms. At least not anymore.”
Arghen decided it was time to start talking out loud, since it didn’t seem to matter whether he was silent or not.
“You speak in riddles. Can you not speak plainly? What do you mean?” he asked.
The hooded form stirred and out from under the cloak appeared the hand and arm again, this time with a finger pointing at him. “I am very pleased to say that you have passed the test that I have given you. After you had been poisoned, you were originally following the lure of a Deep-whisp that leads unknowing beings into dangerous places to be killed. I became aware of you and intercepted you from what could have been your fate. Upon reading you, I chose to test you. I was that little girl, Thera, whom you chose not to hurt—and yes, I know exactly what she could have done for you back in Relkanav.” She smiled at him, and then said, “As a reward for passing your test, should you wish it, I can tell you how to reach a society of Under-elves who live on the Surface who would welcome you.”
Arghen was jolted badly by her words. How can any of what she has said be true—testings and Thera and everything—it does not seem possible! But then the second part of what she said kicked in. Me? Go to the Surface world?! The very words struck disgust into his heart from the tales passed on from one generation of Under-elves to the next. Yet the disgust was mixed with curiosity and a certain sense of longing for being with others of his own kind, after a fashion, since he no longer had any of his own. A society of Under-elves living on the surface? That would accept me? If this were real, it would be a far safer choice than Vernath.
The strange female peered out at him from her shadowed hood but said nothing as he deliberated with himself.
Finally, Arghen spoke slowly. “How do I know what you are telling me is factual?”
“You do not. You have only your warrior-trained instincts to guide you. But I tell you true: once upon a time, I lived among that particular group of Surface-Under-elves and became a leader among them. I also know they still live now in harmony with Surfacers of like mind,” she replied. “I lead them no longer, because I have answered a different call: I am now known as Quiris, a lesser Deity under the Goddess Caelestis, Goddess of the Sky.”
He felt amazement. She is a Surfacer and a Deity? was his first thought, but then skepticism crept in. She did not look like a Goddess, at least that he could tell; all he could see was a cloth-shrouded form. And the Gods hadn’t involved Themselves down in the Sub-Realms since the Disjoin. However, there was a certain air about her that he could not define which troubled his mind.
Quiris sighed. “I am not in the habit of proving Myself. I have already done that lately for someone else, and I refuse to do it again. Either take it on faith, or not; it is your choice. I am getting weary of doubt.”
Arghen looked at her shrouded form keenly for a few moments more, and then his gut feelings decided him. He said quietly, “I do believe you. I do not know why, but I do. There is something about you; something I cannot touch, but I know it is there.”
Her voice when she replied was triumphant. “Then let Me hide no longer.”
In the blink of an eye she went from sitting to standing in front of him, an intangible aura strongly felt around her. Though unnaturally white for an Under-elf, she had a sleek, muscular build befitting a warrior. She wore black, flexible, thigh high leather boots whose tops disappeared under finely crafted blackened Elven chainmail. Beautifully decorated plated armor colored a dull silver graced both of her shoulders and sat atop of her chest and back. A design of a long spear in silver chainmail links built into the armor decorated it from hem to neck. Silver metal bracers that matched the shoulder armor hugged her forearms, and a tight black leather tunic worn under her armor had long sleeves tucked into the bracers. A black and grey cloak was thrown back across her shoulders. As for weapons, she leaned on a black battle spear decorated with curling silver accents and had a matching sword decorated in the reverse at her side. Arghen took one long look and was instantly half in love with her.
CHAPTER 9
Adrenaline poured into Arghen’s body as he stared at the Goddess, and the sight of her revived both his energy and his interest.
Arghen blinked as he realized that his emotions were showing all too openly, but then thought, What difference does it make? I do believe she is a Goddess, so she would know even if I had complete control of myself. He responded out loud in a more-than-complimentary manner, “Irresistible is more how I would describe it.”
Quiris frowned slightly, and Arghen was instantly abashed. What was he thinking? He couldn’t treat a Goddess that way! In an instant he changed his focus from flirtatious to worshipful, and determined he would worship her and her alone. He fell to his knees in front of her.
“Goddess Quiris! You are beautiful, perfect in every way. I will worship you and serve you to my dying day. Your slightest wish is my command; your slightest rebuke a heavy burden to bear. I will brave any danger on your behalf, just for the chance of a smile from your flawless lips. I will achieve the near-impossible just for an approving glance. You are like a …,” and here Arghen’s smooth words failed him.
Old Disciplines, New Uses Page 4
