by Scott Bury
“Thank you,” the Sklavene warrior said in accented Greek. “Give me my sword—I must help my brothers!” Malleus complied, and the warrior leaped back into the middle of the camp, beheading something that had just killed a man.
Malleus saw another sword, dropped by a warrior who had been bitten by something that looked like a pig’s head with legs. He swept up the weapon and jumped beside Miro, who had just killed another monster. “You and I, Sklavene, back to back!” Miro nodded. Back to back, swords out, the two whirled in unison as they slashed through the demons. They were unstoppable, each protecting the other’s back, moving almost instinctively as though they had been practising this move for years. They ripped through fiend after monster, saving Sklavenic warriors from horrible deaths—until they confronted Stuhach, and Malleus’ borrowed blade broke on the fiend’s hide. They stopped, looking up at the thing’s wide, hideous mouth. That mouth gaped wide, revealing rows of triangular teeth. Spit dripped from the forked tongue as Stuhach prepared to swallow Malleus whole, like a snake.
“STOP! STOP! STOP!” The voice was high and thin, but commanding. The monsters immediately froze, and the men hesitated, then looked toward the remaining campfire.
It was Ingund. “Stuhach, cease this stupidity right now!” The monster looked at her, and she returned its gaze, staring directly into its eyes. “If you do not quell your creatures immediately, you will have my mother to answer to.” Incredibly, it bowed and sputtered something in a ghastly language. The other monsters also bowed toward the princess.
“Miro, as the daughter of King Ingolf, I command you to tell your men to put away their weapons!” Miro looked at the men, then at the princess. “Miro!” she repeated, almost screaming. “Bury my uncle!”
Miro looked at the monsters to make sure they were not going to move, then sheathed his sword. He nodded at two men, and they pulled Stanislaw’s body into his tent.
The monsters withdrew into the darkness. Ingund took over the command of the troop, ordering groups to bury the dead and tend to the wounded. There were not many left unhurt.
Austinus, Malleus and Tiana were left on the sidelines, but they didn’t dare wander out of the flickering circle of firelight. They huddled together. Tiana looked at the purple bruise on Malleus’ head.
“Ingolf! That old scoundrel is now calling himself ‘king of the Goths’!” Austinus whispered.
“So it wasn’t Bayan, after all,” Tiana replied. “Somehow, they have manipulated the Avars into taking the brunt of Imperial wrath…”
“Don’t forget the Sklavenes,” said Malleus. Maybe it was the blow to the head, but he did not seem to be sneering as much as usual. “They’re they ones who have been doing most of the fighting.”
“Be silent, witch,” said Ingund, approaching. “Tell me how you got here and what happened to that annoying puppy-dog, Javor, or I’ll have you all killed on the spot!”
“You’ll kill no one, Ingund!” It was Miro, striding back from Stanislaw’s tent. “These people were my prisoners, and now they’re free. On my honour, I must protect their lives.”
“Don’t you dare speak to me that way, Miro!” Ingund hissed.
“Shut up, Ingund! Being the Queen’s daughter may mean something in Rome, but not to me! Is what he said true? You and he are lovers? And what about what the fiend said—are you pregnant? Is that boy the father of your baby?”
“Oh, please! I haven’t even seen him for more than ten months! And don’t you think I can do better than some boy from gods-know-where?”
“Oh, yes, you are the ‘Princess of the Goths’! I forgot!” Miro scoffed. “Well, to me you are merely my younger, spoiled cousin whose mother filled her head with grand ideas.”
“Oh, really? Do you forget who stopped the chorteh?”
“You were the one who made an agreement with the spawn of Hell, and because of it my father is dead! Now go and tend to his body or I’ll take you over my knee, ‘princess’!”
Ingund huffed, but stomped into the tent. Miro looked after her for a moment, then turned to the three. “Well? Who was your friend, and where did he go?”
“His name is Javor, and it looked like he was carried off by a dragon,” Tiana answered.
Miro took a few moments to absorb that. “I am sorry. At first, I thought that ridiculous, but after all I have seen tonight, well, I suppose it must be true. And I am sorry for your loss.”
“And we are truly sorry for yours,” Tiana replied. “But I do not fear for Javor’s safety. I do not know why, but somehow I feel he is safe.”
“How can you say that?” Austinus said. “That was the dragon that took the dagger from the armory and burned off Philip’s arm. It has been hunting Javor for months.”
“I know. Still, I cannot quell this feeling I have. I think the dragon meant him no harm. After all, it flew him out of harm’s way when it could have very easily slain him on the spot.”
“This discussion is useless,” Malleus said. He seemed to be recovering some of his composure. “What do we do now?”
“For now, you will wait with us. Your fate is tied to ours now, unless you want to face those things out there,” Miro said, nodding into the darkness where Stuhach waited with its companions. “For my part, I prefer to have as many men with me as possible right now. And women,” he added. Tiana nodded.
“What are we waiting for?” she asked.
“For our transportation to the Hall of the Mountain King,” Miro explained. “Our King also made an alliance with Krum Chimmek, leader of the Kobolds. They are expected this night.”
“Kobolds!” Tiana exclaimed. “More fantastic creatures!”
“No, not fantastic,” Miro said. “They are people who live in the mountains. Small, yes, and very shy, usually, but also very skilled at metalwork and making marvellous machines. They will help us return to Ingolf.”
“I thought Ingolf was dead,” said Austinus.
“No. He is rebuilding the Ostrogothic Kingdom. But I have probably said too much already. You had better tell me who you are and how you found us.”
Austinus took a deep breath, but Tiana answered before he could. “We are mystics from Constantinople, and it is our role to preserve civilization by learning about, and destroying threats to it—like those monsters out there.”
“And how did you find us?” Miro pressed.
“We were just following the trail of the men who rescued Ingund from Constantinople. But we were also guided by our friend, Javor, who has a mystic connection to that dagger that the monster Stuhach wears around its waist.”
“How is he connected?”
“The dagger is his. Or at least, it was in his possession for some time.”
Malleus added, “He has used it to kill monsters and at least one dragon already.”
“My friends!” Austinus exclaimed. “I must protest at this far too candid sharing of secret knowledge! I am sorry, Miro, but really, we hardly know you.”
“In our situation, my dear, our best hope to survive is to share as much information as we can,” Tiana argued gently. “Miro has shown good faith by telling us as much as he can. By combining what we know, we can perhaps deduce more.”
“So, if the dagger was Javor’s, how did Stuhach get it?” Miro asked.
“Good question,” said Malleus. “The last time we saw it, that dragon stole it from us. Now it’s taken Javor, instead.”
“How did Stuhach get it from the dragon?”
Tiana, Austinus and Malleus looked at each other and collectively shrugged. “Another mystery,” said Austinus. “The origins of the dagger are also unknown.”
“What’s so special about this dagger?”
“Have you ever tried to kill a dragon?” Malleus said. “You saw how Stuhach’s hide broke that sword; only a dagger like Javor’s can cut it.”
“Your friend has miraculous qualities,” Miro mused. “He also seemed to set Stuhach on fire, which started this fight. But enough—the Kobolds have arrived!�
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From the river, they could see a glow drawing closer. Gradually, it separated into several lights, not flickering like torches, but shining steadily. The warriors drew into formation, ready for anything. Ingund came out of the tent to greet the glow.
Out of the woods along the river came a procession of very short, stocky and powerful-looking men. They all had long beards and wore chain mail and beautifully decorated helmets. Each had a double-headed axe slung across his back. The light, almost as bright as daytime, came from ten glowing globes on long poles.
Their leader was the stockiest of them, with arms as thick as Stanislaw’s. His beard was silvery and his helmet was adorned with a dragon made of gold. He stopped in front of the Gothic warriors and stomped his foot, and all his followers stopped in time. “Where is Stanislaw?” he demanded.
Miro stepped forward. “Dead. Killed by Stuhach. I am Miro, his son and now commander of this company.”
Ingund pushed between the warriors. “Where have you been, Chimmekin? You are late!”
The Kobold leader barely looked at her. “I am Krum Chimmek, Truth-Speaker of the Kobolds, young lady, and my elite company and I have arrived at precisely the appointed time. I am disappointed to be met, not with the befitting protocols, but by a smart-mouthed girl and the signs of a terrible battle. What has happened here?”
“We were awaiting you when those chortek, the demons, attacked us without provocation,” said Miro, bowing to the dwarf.
Ingund pointed at Tiana, Austinus and Malleus. “It was their fault!”
Krum Chimmek looked at the three coolly. They blinked in the bright light from the globes. “Well. A Greek, an Egyptian and a Scythian witch. Just who might you be?”
“I am Austinus,” he answered, trying to sound confident. “This Egyptian man is Malleus, and this is my wife, Tiana, who is no witch, I can assure you. We are mystics from Constantinople, seeking answers to ancient mysteries and endeavouring to protect the light of civilization.”
“Civilization!” Krum Chimmek snorted, walking slowly up to the three. “You call Rome ‘civilization’? An empire that ruthlessly exterminates entire nations and that stripped its homeland of the ability to feed its own people? A nation that has adopted a religion that it is still making up, then forcing on others? A religion that makes no sense? Keep your Christianity! Keep your civilization! We have our own, far superior society!”
“We are not Christians!” Tiana exclaimed. “Please, you and we, all of us, are caught in a web of forces no one can fully perceive, but which may destroy us all! You have made alliances with demonic beings and, as you can see, they can turn on us in an instant!”
Krum Chimmek looked up at her from under his golden dragon crest. “You say you are not Christian, and you are also not named ‘Tiana.’ No, I am not addressing Te-ma-arun-Vd-a, Scythian priestess of the goddess Tabita?”
Tiana went pale in the artificial, pure-white light of the glowing globes, and Austinus’ jaw dropped.
“But we are wasting time. We must return to Devín now.” Without a further word, he turned toward the river.
“Wait!” Ingund cried. “We must bury my uncle!”
Krum Chimmek said nothing, but four Kobolds, one carrying a glow-globe, went into the tent and carried Stanislaw’s body out on a stretcher. The surviving Sklavenic warriors gathered the bodies of their fallen comrades.
Tiana, Malleus, the stupefied Austinus, Ingund and the rest followed the Kobolds back to the river bank, where more Kobolds waited beside a long boat that was completely unlike any craft that the humans had seen before: long and low and sleek, made of a smooth, light-grey material without grain, seam or joint. It had no oars, paddles or sails. There was a long, low cabin in the middle. The bow was covered in a smooth deck of the same grey material, but the stern was open. Krum Chimmek strode across a wide plank from the riverbank to the forward deck. The Kobolds bearing Stanislaw’s body followed him and carefully placed the stretcher at the stern.
Miro, Ingund and some of the other warriors gathered around the body. Krum Chimmek said a brief prayer in an ancient-sounding language. Then he gave a sign and the Kobolds tipped the stretcher. Stanislaw slipped gently into the river, drifted out of the reach of the globes’ light and sank slowly into the dark water. “He is committed to the care of Donau,” said Krum Chimmek.
Miro had his men bring their fellows’ bodies to the edge of the river. He improvised a quick ceremony and the men pushed the bodies into the dark river, as well. By then, the moon was getting to the western sky and Krum Chimmek’s patience was worn out. The Kobolds pushed the men—twelve in all, out of more than 20 who had taken Ingund from Constantinople—into the open stern area. Krum Chimmek and two other Kobolds stood at the bow, looking at the bank, and the rest of the Kobold crew went into the cabin.
Tiana, Malleus and Austinus crowded into the open part of the boat with Ingund, Miro and the surviving warriors. Tiana wondered what Krum Chimmek waited for until Stuhach and its remaining fellows strode, limped and slithered to the bank. As soon as Stuhach set its foot on the plank, Miro jumped up. “No! I will not ride with the demon that killed my father!”
“Our craft is very full, Stuhach,” said Krum Chimmek.
“Very well,” it scraped, flicking its tongue toward Miro. “I can follow.”
And with that, the boat cast off. Without any sound or apparent effort by the Kobolds, the plank withdrew into the body of the boat and the glowing globes faded. A low, throbbing noise came from beneath the boat’s hull and it slowly backed away from the bank, turned upriver, and then with the slightest lurch started moving forward.
The boat quickly attained a speed that alarmed the people in the back, but Krum Chimmek and his Kobolds stood calmly on the foredeck, oblivious to the wind that whipped their long beards. Miro was amazed to see the riverbanks recede past them, and Austinus was mesmerized by the wake behind the boat, like two long triangular furrows that merged far behind them. Tiana looked at the bank and could occasionally see Stuhach loping along the river’s edge, keeping pace with them.
Ingund clung to Miro as they sped north-west, upriver. The only sound was the wind whistling past them and the low throb of whatever was driving the boat. As the moon rose, they saw low but craggy mountains on the right-hand side of the river.
Malleus screamed into Tiana’s ear over the sound of air rushing past, “Who the hell is Te-ma-arun-Vd-a?” Tiana shook her head, unwilling to answer, but at the same time, Austinus asked “How did the Kobold king know your real name?”
The boat sped upriver as the moon tracked westward. Sometime past midnight, as Tiana could reckon, the craft slowed as it approached a deep shadow cast where the mountains reached the river, and came to a rest beside a dock. Without a word, the Kobolds disembarked. The humans followed them along a path that led straight to a cliff.
Krum Chimmek walked without hesitating straight to the rocky face and as the light from the glowglobes touched it, a door, twice high enough for a tall man and wide enough for a wagon, opened silently on a long, smooth tunnel. The walls and floor shone with light reflected from two lines of glowing globes attached to the walls. Krum Chimmek led the way in while the other Kobolds waited outside until the humans entered, and to their surprise Stuhach joined them, dripping water.
At that moment, several things happened at once: a blast of wind from below scattered dirt and stones into their eyes; a stream of liquid hit Stuhach, covering it; and a man landed beside the monster.
It was Javor. He made a desperate grab for the dagger strapped to the monster’s side, but Stuhach casually backhanded him. Javor flew across the tunnel.
Sarbox landed in a blast of wind, blowing grit into the shining clean tunnel, scattering Kobolds. Krum Chimmek ran toward him, brandishing a double-headed axe and the other Kobolds joined a formation around him. Sarbox ignored the Kobolds; it whipped Stuhach with its tail and pinned it to the ground.
Javor had thought the dragon was the most powerful bei
ng on Earth—everyone had told him that repeatedly. But despite being more than twice as big as Stuhach, and even with the element of surprise, the dragon was unable to subdue the monster. The dragon spit that had burned off Philip’s arm in Constantinople had no effect on it. And its strength was terrifying. It pushed the dragon off and slashed with its claws. The talons dug into the dragon’s hide and Sarbox roared in pain. It snapped its huge jaws at the monster and managed to wound its shoulder, but Stuhach did not slow down. It grabbed the dragon’s head, holding the jaws shut, and slammed the head into the floor. The Kobolds moaned collectively when the dragon’s head cracked the polished granite.
Sarbox slashed its tail at Stuhach, tearing the dagger in its sheath from the strap around the monster’s body. Stuhach noticed it, too, and let go of the dragon’s head. The dagger slid across the smooth floor, out the door to the riverbank.
Kobolds, humans, dragon and monster all ran out, but the dragon stretched out its neck and caught the dagger in its teeth. It spread its wings but before it could flap, Stuhach jumped on its back, wrapped one arm around the dragon’s neck and wrenched sideways. The dragon stumbled and collapsed.
“Sarbox! Throw me the dagger!” Javor shouted as he ran toward the dragon’s head. Miro was right behind him. “Give me the dagger!”
The dragon rolled suddenly, trapping Stuhach beneath it, then quickly righted itself and sprang away from a momentarily dazed Stuhach. “Sarbox! The dagger!” Javor yelled. “What are you doing?”
It had no intention of giving up the dagger. It spread its wings and got ready to fly, but Stuhach was not finished, yet. Still prone on the riverbank, it flung a boulder at Sarbox.
The boulder hit the dragon’s head; the dragon fell back over the bank and the dagger dropped to the ground. Javor heard a succession of big splashes as the dragon’s body fell into the river. Javor ran to the bank and looked down; the dragon was sinking even as the current carried it south.
