As he knew he would, Isic soon located Lohidim's body submerged perhaps a foot below the surface of the odd floor. Isic was shocked to see that the body had been immaculately preserved. Indeed there was no visible decay that he could see, and the man's features, his hair, his clothing, all seemed intact. In the light of his grüwnflame, Isic could see that the man's last expression had been one of horrified surprise. His eyes were still wide open, and his lips peeled back from his teeth as if he had been screaming. Then, Isic's heart skipped a beat when he noticed that, scattered around the man's body were scraps of parchment, similarly embedded in the gelatinous floor. A hunger stirred within Isic. Were these some of the secrets the Lohidim had ripped from the minds of his enemies? What age old knowledge could be scrawled upon them?
He dared not let his gaze linger to long on the floor, for fear he might be overcome with curiosity and botch the task at hand. From what Isic could glean from the gröljum, Lohidim and his secrets had lain here for hundreds of years. Isic's curiosity could wait another day. Besides, Isic was not sure the gröljum would appreciate him digging up their old master. They seemed quite content to have him where he was.
Isic was a little surprised when he looked around and saw that most of the men with him, workers and soldiers alike, had not noticed the strange floor beneath them, nor the ancient body encased within. Their ignorance soon became understandable, however, as he followed their gazes to the figures occupying the balcony above. Overlooking them was the small figure of Laiti, flanked by four large gröljum, two on each side. The hideous gröljum were enough to transfix the attention of any man, but Isic also noticed that Laiti had abandoned the remnants of her tattered work clothing and instead stood naked, her pale white skin glowing in eerie contrast to the dusky gray gröljum.
"Greetings, old one." she said, her soft voice echoing throughout the chamber. "You have come to seal our bargain?"
"I am not the man to seal it," replied Isic. He indicated Tobin, who was standing to his side, his face set in a nervous leer. "This is Tobin Stonelord, my master and King of our people, and it is he who brings you the payment you see before you. It is he who requests your aid in restoring him to his throne."
Tobin shot Isic a whithering look, but had the sense to remain silent.
"That one is…your master?" came Laiti's voice, still addressing Isic. "Though he is smaller, and does not carry your green light?"
"Even so," answered Isic, not daring to look at Tobin. "It is only he who can provide you with the payment you require. I cannot."
"It is your war then, to which we send part of ourselves, Tobin King of Men?" asked Laiti.
"Yes." Tobin's tone was ice.
"Very well," said Laiti. "Present us with your offer."
Tobin nodded stiffly to his guards, who rounded up those workers to be given to the gröljum, and herded them to the front of the chamber.
A strange sound came from the balcony as the gröljum behind Laiti tested the air before them.
"An acceptable start," came Laiti's voice. "There will be others in the future?"
"The more battles we win, the more men you shall have," said Tobin. "If you fail, I can give you nothing."
The gröljum were silent for a moment. Isic winced.
"That is…fair," said Laiti. "Very well, we'll collect our payment." The two men who had guided them to the chamber reappeared and one by one pulled and pushed the dazed workers into a nearby tunnel. When the last man disappeared in to the darkness, a tense silence settled over the chamber. As if sensing their moment had come, panic erupted among the eleven who were to be bonded, and Tobin's soldiers had to subdue them as they tried to flee.
Though unarmed and bound, the men had been chosen for their physical prowess, and to Isic's dismay several soldiers were knocked unconscious in the struggle. Over the din, Isic heard Laiti's calm voice ask, "These bound ones are to be our eyes on the surface?"
"Yes," Isic shouted over the noise.
Out of the surrounding darkness came several gröljum, springing into the air and pouncing upon the bound men. Where as before, the bonding process had been slow, an almost intimate connection between two creatures, what happened next was a sharp reminder to Isic that the gröljum, though unique, were much like any other predatory beast. In an instant the helpless men had been immobilized on the ground, screaming in fear as the gröljum's tendrils sought out their skulls. Moments later the room was silent once again, and for a brief period the bonded men lay completely still. Then, the unnatural jerking and writhing began, as the gröljum learned the intricacies of each particular body.
The scene was brutal, yet mesmerizing, and every eye, ear, and other sensory organ in the chamber was momentarily entranced, except for those belonging to Isic Magmar. He recognized an opportunity that might never come again, and so dropped to his knees while the others remained captivated by the bonding of the two species. After a quick scan of the floor, he shot his huge fist into the earth, grinning as the gelatinous material parted momentarily beneath him. His hand closed around a few sheets of parchments, and he swiftly drew them out of the ground, and placed them out of sight. Glancing around, it did not appear that anyone had noticed, as they were all watching the spectacle before them.
After a while, Laiti gave a satisfied nod of her head. "It is done," she said. "These eleven of us we give to you, to walk upon the surface of light, and strike fear into the heart of your enemies. Guard our lives with care, old one, and you Tobin Stonelord."
Hours later, in the privacy of his room, Isic pulled out the leafs of parchment he had retrieved from Lohidim's summoning chamber. They were covered in a cramped, unorthodox handwriting, and in an ancient Hinnjari tongue long forgotten by most. To Isic's surprise, the majority of them appeared to be something labeled:
Dissection notes – Inarum 34, 12
I have opened the body of a living gröljum. Predictably, the creature did not survive the process. It was a necessity, though I fear I may pay a dear price for it. The gröljum are so fiercely protective of their own. The colony will undoubtedly be in unrest for months, knowing that I have taken one of their lives for my own purposes. I shall have to be more severe in my punishments, to remind them that my authority is absolute and disobedience will not be tolerated.
However, the knowledge I have gained from this endeavor is well worth any inconveniences which may arise. I have spent much of my life trying to outdo nature, and in many respects I have done so, yet I fear the powers of this creature are such that I may never be able to truly match, or even understand them.
The body of the gröljum, compared to many of nature's more imaginative creatures, is fairly unremarkable. As one might expect from a creature who lives entirely in a stone habitat, its grayish skin is exceptionally tough. It is not however, in the same class as many insects, which, were they human, would have skin the rough equivalent to a suit of armor. The gröljum's skin can be opened easily enough by a vigorous hand and a sharpened blade of steel.
The thoracic internals seem largely similar to our own—a mass of bloodlines and organs. The blood was disappointingly red. Of note is the fact that the stomach is unusually small, while its air-sacs are abnormally large when compared to that of a human. The stomach was filled with a thick clear jelly which I am unable to identify.
The real discovery was this—the gröljum have several vessels, similar to bloodlines, which circulate throughout their bodies. There appear to be two distinct types of such vessels. One set runs up into the skull, where it traverses the length of each tendril-like appendage. The other set traverses the arms, branching and ending at each claw. I can find no places were the two lines intersect, but both seemed to carry an odd clear fluid that smells vaguely of sulfur.
Upon further examination of the tendril-like appendages of the gröljum's skull, I found each to be equipped with a small needle-like mechanism which is connected to the anomalous lines of clear fluid. Having seen the process by which a gröljum bonds with a human
many times, I assume that during the bonding this unknown fluid is therefore delivered via injection into part of the skull. I have taken samples of the substance, making sure that at no point did it come into contact with my person. Who knows what the effects of such contact would be? It is clear that I must study this fluid, as it may be the key to the bonding process, and indeed to the gröljum's strange mental powers in general.
I suspect the lines feeding the gröljum's claws may contain some kind of venom, although I have not observed any venomous effects in those I have seen clawed by the creature. Perhaps it is merely a vestige of a defense the gröljum no longer use. Still, I have taken a sample of that fluid as well. I will need some animal subjects for further testing.
Dissection notes – Silphenum 34, 20
The fluid I retrieved from the gröljum's cranial area seems to be a dead end. I have detected no unusual properties in the liquid itself, and my tests with animals have been inconclusive. Many of the subjects did exhibit slight behavioral changes shortly after I injected them with the fluid, but no patterns seemed to emerge. I fear the changes may merely have been due to the irritation resulting from the painful application of the substance.
The next step is to find a human test subject. With a human I should be able to detect more subtle changes in behavior, perhaps even having the subject vocalize any changes it may feel. I must admit that a desire to harness the mental prowess of the gröljum has often tempted me to use myself as a subject. However, I cannot risk coming under their control, if such a thing is possible.
The second fluid taken from the area of the claws has proven far more interesting. Without exception, every animal injected with the substance has exhibited a desire to escape. In the more active of the creatures, this has included hurling themselves at the bars of their cage. The more subdued creatures merely sat near the edge of their confines and whined piteously while gazing outside. Such behavior was not constant, though it did seem to occur regularly after periods of sleep.
Stranger still is that some of the animals I had not exposed to the fluid began to act unusually as well. After careful observation, I concluded that whatever behavioral changes are induced by the substance, they can be transmitted, like a sickness once an animal has been exposed. So I have identified only two modes of transmittal: copulation and combat. Is this some strange disease the gröljum carry? If so, I must take great pains not to be infected. As with the first fluid, I hope to learn more once I progress to human subjects.
Isic was slightly disappointed. He had hoped for some insight into the eldürcraft or secrets of powerful men long lost to the world. This insight into the gröljum anatomy was interesting, but Isic could think of no way he could currently use it to his advantage.
Still, Isic now knew he should keep well clear of the gröljum's claws. He had been so focused on their ability to project emotion that he hadn't given much through to the more corporeal weapons they had at their disposal. He wondered if Lohidim had made further findings concerning the behavior that had manifested in his infected animals. Still more enlightening would be his notes on human experimentation…if he had gotten that far. For all Isic knew, these could be the last words penned by Lohidim before he died.
It then occurred to Isic that he had the opportunity to follow up on Lohidim's findings. There had been several survivors of his demonstration for Tobin. One or two had been clawed by the gröljum when they had come to close to the creature. Isic had sent them to be treated by Tobin's army medics. They had not been presented to the gröljum as part of Tobin's payment because of their injuries. Isic decided it was time to see if they had recovered.
When he reached the old women's barracks that had once been his smithy, now temporarily converted into an infirmary, he found one of the medics inside, playing a game of pick-pins. The man jumped when he saw Isic's shadow appear in the doorway.
"I need to see the workers who were clawed by gröljum last week."
"Sorry, Sir. They're gone."
"Gone?" said Isic, surprised.
"Yeah, gone," said the medic. "As far as I can tell they just up and walked out one evening. Probably died of cold."
"Was there no one watching them?" demanded the smith.
"Didn't think they needed watching. One had fifty-six stitches in his back. Put 'em there myself. I am amazed he was able to get anywhere."
"Any idea where they were going?"
The medic stopped to think. "Well," he replied. "It doesn't make much sense, but I often heard one of two of them moaning about going back to that mine. Dreams mostly, I think."
"Damn," swore Isic. If his suspicions were correct, Tobin was not the only one who had underestimated the danger of the gröljum.
Chapter 47: Xasho
Xasho stared at the half-dozen cherries gently cradled in Jeina's hand. His first instinct was to dash them to the ground and berate the woman for suggesting that a mere fruit could do anything to ameliorate the sense of failure that clung to him like a shroud. Then, however, he realized he could not remember the last time he had eaten. Before he could utter a word, a growl from his stomach betrayed his thoughts and Jeina gave a satisfied smile.
"Thought so," she said. "Here, take them all. I saw plenty more on the trees this morning."
At the touch of Jeina's hand as she pressed the berries into his, Xasho felt his anger seep from him. Why should this woman bear the brunt of his frustrations? She was being nothing but kind, he realized. When was the last time he had been given something out of kindness? Xasho found he could not recall.
Nodding in acceptance, Xasho took the cherries and silently began to eat. The cherries were small, not yet as ripe as they should have been, and Xasho could not suppress a small scowl as their tart juices met his tongue.
"I'm sorry," said Jeina sheepishly. "I already ate most of the good ones on the lowest branches, and I am too small to reach the rest."
Inexplicably, Xasho felt the urge to laugh and cry at once, though his dignity would not let him do either. Instead his just shook his head and continued to eat the tart cherries in silence.
"I understand you hardly know me, but it wouldn't hurt to tell me what weighs on you so," said Jeina. "At least you'll have it off your chest, and well, maybe I can help in some way. I…we," Jeina looked back in the direction of the shed, "we owe you a great debt."
"You owe me nothing," said Xasho. "A beast like that has no place among men."
"Yes…" began Jeina, her eyes going wide at the memory of the gröljum. "But still you risked your life to confront the creature moments before it would have killed me, or worse, taken me back to…" Jeina trailed off for a moment. "There was a point when I didn't believe men like you existed anymore. Then, when I most needed it, Fezi appeared. Like some hero out of a child's tale he pledged to protect me, uprooted his whole life to see me safely to the Blood Marsh. And now you, saving us both, finding Fezi a healer, and asking nothing in return…are you alright?"
Xasho's face had gone pale. Listening to Jeina's story felt like someone slowly driving a knife into his gut. It was as if the gods themselves were taunting him. The man he had sworn to kill had succeeded where he had failed. Kazick had offered his protection to this woman before him, for reasons Xasho could not fathom, and had put his life in jeopardy to make good on his promise. And here Xasho was leagues away from the corpse of the man he was honor-bound to protect. Not just any man, either, but the Grand Johalid, a man who, more than any other, embodied the whole of the Curahshar.
Despite his massive failures, despite his inability to see a reason for waking the next day, Xasho found himself overwhelmed by a perverse curiosity.
"Who are you?" he demanded, looking at Jeina.
"I don't understand," said Jeina, confused.
"Who are you, that a Prince, a man who could lay claim to a crown that pretends to rule the whole of Esmoria, would lay his life at your feet?"
"What?" said Jeina.
"Are you of noble blood yourself? A pri
ncess of the Hinnjar kept a secret to the world to protect you from harm?"
"What? No! Xasho, why are you asking such foolish—"
"Have you seduced him, then? Convinced him to renounce his titles and run away with you?" continued Xasho.
"Absolutely not!" said Jeina, indignant. "We have never…I mean, he is so much older…"
"Then what hold do you have over him?" demanded Xasho.
"Over Fezi? I told you, he pledged to protect me. I met him in a small village at the foot of the Silver Mountains after I escaped from…from…did you say Fezi was a Prince?"
"Jeina," said Xasho, looking directly in her eyes. "I beg you not to play games with me. I am a failed, lost man. For what little it is worth, I give you my word that I have no purpose in asking of your secrets, save to satisfy my own curiosity. Now, please tell me who you are that one such as Kazick would give his life for you."
"Kazick?" asked a bewildered Jeina.
"Kazick!" insisted Xasho, pulling the small portrait of Prince from his pockets and holding it before Jeina's eyes.
"I do not know that man!" protested Jeina, glancing at the picture.
Jeina's expression seemed so genuine, her voice so puzzled, that for the first time Xasho wondered if she was telling the truth. "Look harder," he offered. "This man now sleeps not thirty feet from us. He has changed much from the time of this portrait, yes, but it is the same man. I would stake my life upon it."
Jeina snatched the portrait from Xasho's hand and examined it more closely. For the first time, Xasho noticed that she had to squint and hold the small picture abnormally close to her face as she scrutinized Kazick's likeness. Then, to Xasho's satisfaction, a startled look of recognition began to take shape in Jeina's features. Without warning, she spun around and took off toward the shed. Xasho chased after her, worried she might intend to warn the Prince, or to fetch some weapon she had concealed in the shed, but when he passed the threshold of the building, he found Jeina standing over Fezi, studying him intently.
The Weight of a Crown (The Azhaion Saga Book 1) Page 44
