by Scott Bury
Stuhach calmly picked up the dagger again and went back into the tunnel. “We have wasted too much time, Krum Chimmek,” it said in its horrifying voice.
The Kobolds surrounded the humans, weapons out. Krum Chimmek studied Javor carefully. “Who are you?” he demanded.
“My name is Javor.”
“He’s one of us,” Austinus said.
“Bind him,” Krum Chimmek ordered the Kobolds.
“There is no need for that!” Austinus protested.
“Shut up, unless you want the same treatment,” the Kobold leader said. “And young man, remain quiet or I will have you gagged, as well. Don’t even think of calling your dragon friend again.”
Quickly, two Kobolds fastened around Javor’s wrists thin metal manacles that were surprisingly comfortable, joined by a chain so thin that Javor nearly laughed. But the Kobolds laughed when Javor tried to break it. How could something so tiny be so strong?
The Kobolds led the humans back into the tunnel, and Javor heard more than one clucking their tongues about the cracks in the floor. The door behind them closed silently and Krum Chimmek led them down the tunnel to where it opened into a huge chamber, lit by more glowing globes fastened at regular intervals on the rock walls. At the far end, there was another tunnel, dark and thrice the size of the one they had walked through. Where it entered the chamber, a smooth, semi-circular trench continued across to another opening.
And in the middle of the trench was the strangest thing that any of the humans had seen: a huge metallic cylinder lying on its side. The edge of the trench reached perhaps one-third up its side, and level with the floor of the chamber was an opening in the cylinder’s side.
Krum Chimmek stepped inside the cylinder and the humans followed. Inside, the cylinder was sumptuously furnished: the floor was covered in a thick carpet with a complex pattern, the walls in dark wooden panels. Benches upholstered in soft red leather were attached to the walls. There were cabinets and tables built into them as well, and at one end was a huge chair made of heavy oak, covered in red leather and adorned with at least a dozen sparkling gems of all colours, each the size of Tiana’s eye. Krum Chimmek sat there; Danisa made a point of sitting on the bench nearest him and claiming at least three seats for her own use. The rest of the humans found places at the other benches. Austinus sat as close to the Kobold leader as he could, and Tiana sat next to him, with Malleus on the other side. Miro sat beside a wooden cabinet, looking curiously at Javor.
Krum Chimmek made a tiny gesture, and two Kobolds pushed Javor into a seat at the back of the cyclinder. One unlocked the chain from one manacle, then attached it to the arm of the chair. Another chain attached the other wrist. Javor pulled experimentally. Hopeless.
Stuhach bent down to get its bulk inside the cylinder and Miro immediately took a defensive posture. Krum Chimmek pointed at the far end of the cylinder; awkwardly, the monster shuffled there. The wood panelling silently slid aside to reveal another compartment, not as comfortable looking but still incredible. Stuhach squeezed through the opening and squatted down, and then the panel closed again, hiding it from human view.
The remaining Kobolds entered, opened cabinets and, without speaking, took out dishes and cups. They poured red wine and put out plates of bread, cheeses, berries and grapes.
The door slid closed, and humans and Kobolds were completely enclosed in the wood-panelled cylinder. They felt the floor shudder slightly and heard a sound like far-off wind in the treetops.
“We’re moving,” Austinus said. There was no shaking, no noise.
“We are going underground as quickly as we can to Dun Regen, the hall of the King of the Mountains,” said Krum Chimmek.
“May I inquire as to the nature of this conveyance?” Austinus asked.
“We call it the bog sciopa, fast mover,” Krum Chimmek answered.
“And what propels it forward?”
“None of your business.”
One Kobold held a goblet to Javor’s lips and tilted it to help him drink. He realized how thirsty and hungry he was and gulped down the wine. It was far better than any he had had in Constantinople. The Kobold put down the goblet and fed Javor bread and cheese.
Austinus, Tiana and Malleus happily dug into the feast. Miro looked at it suspisciously at first, but once he saw the Kobolds eating, too, stuffed a huge bun into his mouth.
“My compliments to your cooks, Krum Chimmek,” Austinus said graciously, then gulped down more wine. “And to you vintners!” Krum Chimmek nodded just as graciously and took a huge bite of cheese.
The bog sciopa continued, and the Kobolds remained silent, removing dirty dishes and carrying them somewhere to be cleaned, disposing of leftovers, replenishing wine. Malleus’ bruise was looking worse every minute, but every sip of wine made it feel a little better. And after several goblets of wine, Krum Chimmek grew more talkative.
“You know, much of the artifice we use to make the bog sciopa was learned from you Greeks,” he said.
“Really?” Austinus only pretended to sip his wine; after what felt like hours in the conveyance, he was still on his first cup. “But we have nothing that even approaches this!”
“Ah, but you once had the best engineers and most inventive mechanics in the world, before Rome came along,” said Krum Chimmek, gulping down more wine. “Archimedes, of course, and Heron developed some of the basic tools and techniques that we Kobolds still use routinely. But once the Romans took over, well, they didn’t like any inventions that they could not understand, unless they could be used for killing people.”
Did I lose my mind a year ago? Is everything I have seen and done since been nothing but a mad fantasy? Javor wondered.
Despite being chained to the chair, he was very comfortable. He almost felt as if he could fall asleep, but at the same time he could feel the nearness of his great-grandfather’s dagger, in the grip of the monster in the chamber behind him.
Even after all the marvels he had seen over the last year, his mind reeled at his new situation: the diminutive Kobolds (They’re so strong!), their tunnels and weapons and armour, the bog sciopa.
He could not keep silent any longer. “Who are you people?”
Krum Chimmek drained his goblet and poured himself more wine. His mood continued to mellow. “You call us the Kobolds. We are similar to men, but different, too. We pride ourselves on our skills at metal and stone work—and with gems, too. But by necessity, we must remain hidden from men.”
“Why?”
“You have seen and heard, have you not, what Rome has done to other nations?” He looked at each of the humans in turn. “We have no desire to become part of the Roman Empire, especially now that it is dying. And its successor ‘civilizations,’ as you call them, are as vicious. So, we remain hidden, free from your wars and jealousies so that we may develop our own culture and knowledge without harming the earth that gives us life.
“But I told you to be quiet. Not another sound out of you, young man, or I will truly have you gagged.”
Chapter 33: The hall of the mountain king
By Tiana’s estimate, they traveled for hours. She had a vague feeling of speed from the deep rumbling sound beneath their feet, a slight whoosh like wind, an occasional rocking back and forth. For a time, Tiana felt as if they were moving downward slightly, but then it felt as if they had leveled out—or was that just her imagination?
After finishing his meal, Krum Chimmek became decidely less garrulous. He would not satisfy Austinus’ curiousity about how the bog sciopa worked or moved, nor would he say any more about his people, the Kobolds. “Do you have an alliance with the Goths? The Avars?” Krum Chimmek just looked at Austinus, his face a mask. “With…the monsters?” Still no response. None of the other Kobolds said anything, either, until after what felt like two hours, some started to sing softly, in an eerie, high-pitched drone and an even more eerie, guttural language. Even Tiana could not understand it.
Malleus gradually fell asleep. On Tiana’s
other side, Austinus studyied the strange craft they rode in, looking carefully at the jewels that studded the furnishings, at the workmanship of the benches and chairs and tables. He got up and paced around the cylindrical room, tracing his fingers around the panel door, rubbing the wood. Javor just sat, his face expressionless; Tiana could see that his mind had withdrawn to that unreachable place deep within.
Ingund sat close to Krum Chimmek’s side, but no matter how hard she tried to appear regal, she could not keep her eyes open against the gentle rocking of the Kobolds’ underground wagon. Before long, her head tipped forward. Then she slumped to the side. Her mouth drooped open and she drooled slowly as the conveyance whispered on.
Tiana thought back on all the puzzles of the past few days, trying to put them in order. She mentally listed the facts that she knew: Sklavenes, not Goths, had rescued Ingund—whom Javor called Danisa. But Stanislaw, their leader with the Sklavenic name, called himself a Goth. The Sklavenes were taking her to her father, Gothic King Ingolf, and they were aided by monsters, who had turned on them. The monsters had Javor’s mystical dagger. The dagger had been stolen from the Abbey by the dragon. The dragon took Javor away from the fight with the monsters, then brought him back, tried to take the dagger from the monsters’ leader and lost.
Think back: Spiridon had said that the Avar Khagan, Bayan, was behind the troubles beyond the Danuvius, driving southward the Sklavenes who wanted only peace and pasture. But these Sklavenes who had captured her served the Gothic King Ingolf. That name was familiar to her, somehow, but from where?
When Austinus tired of his fruitless inspection of the bog sciopa, he sat down beside Tiana with a deep sigh. “Well, wherever the Kobolds want to take us, we have no choice but to go.” Malleus opened his eyes, looked around, saw that nothing had changed and went back to sleep.
Tiana rested her head on Austinus’ shoulder and closed her eyes. Then, Austinus’ head blocking her mouth from Krum Chimmek’s view, she murmured into her husband’s ear, “How do the Kobolds fit into all this?”
“Hmmm?” Austinus answered, smiling gently at Krum Chimmek.
“Why are they helping the Sklavenes and the monsters? They have this remarkable craft, these amazing abilities—what could they possibly want from barbarians? And who is Ingolf?”
Austinus stretched his arms over his head, lowering them so that it looked like he was holding a sleeping Tiana. He leaned his head on hers and closed his eyes, then murmured “Wake up, Malleus.”
“I have been awake all along,” he snarled softly. “My eyes appear closed, but I am watching our host through the narrow slits. Even now, he is admiring the jewels on his armour. He is probably looking at his own reflection, telling himself how impressive he is in having captured us, the little twerp.”
“Be careful, Hammer of Rome,” said Austinus in a voice so low that Malleus barely heard it. Through slitted eyes, he cast a glance at Krum Chimmek’s direction. “The Kobolds appear small, but they are strong enough to bend an iron sword in their bare hands, and I daresay Krum Chimmek could toss you around this chamber at will.”
Malleus snorted derisively, if softly, and continued to pretend to sleep.
“Ingolf was one of the Ostrogothic generals who supported Totila in the last Gothic War in Italy,” Austinus said quietly. “After Totila died, Teia was chosen as his successor, and with the tribal leaders Scipuar, Gibal, Ragnaris and Ingolf, led a last stand against the Roman general Narses in southern Italy. All but Ragnaris and Ingolf died at the battle of Mons Lactarius on the slopes of Mount Vesuvius. Ragnaris was later assassinated, but Ingolf disappeared. It appears he went north to the Alps and rebuilt his power.”
“But that was thirty years ago!” Tiana murmured into Austinus’ neck. Her breath tickled him a little. Although they were captured and in constant mortal danger, the situation was very intimate. He pursed his lips and gently kissed Tiana’s head.
“I do not know much about Ingolf,” he answered. “He may have been quite young at Mons Lactarius, or he may be quite old now.”
“So, for these past thirty years, he has been manipulating the Avars, Lombards and Sklavenes, making them strike against Rome’s borders and warring against each other to prevent any of them from becoming too powerful,” she said, analyzing as her sweet breath continued to tickle Austinus’ neck. “And at the same time, he has made alliances with monsters and supernatural forces, as well as with these little people that I thought were only children’s stories!”
“The Kobolds are an ancient race that has always hidden,” Austinus replied. “According to ancient lore, they stayed in mountains, usually building fantastic, beautiful cities underground lit by magical gems. I thought they had died out centuries ago. I suppose that is just a testament to their ability to hide themselves.”
“But why are they aiding Ingolf? What benefit could they hope to get from such an alliance?”
“Perhaps he has promised them something.”
“What could Ingolf offer? Wealth? Look at the diamonds and other gems! There is more wealth right here than in most of the richest homes in Constantinople—how could the Goths match that? Land? Kobolds live underground. Ingolf could not prevent them from tunneling anywhere. Look at our situation—we are in a tunnel leading from underneath a mountain on the bank of the Danuvius to who knows where!”
“We are headed west,” Malleus said from behind his almost closed eyes.
“How do you know that?” Tiana whispered.
“I kept track of the direction when we entered the mountain chamber after we came off the boat, and the turns we took until we stepped inside this, this…fancy wagon,” Malleus muttered. “The boat took us to the westernmost extremity of the Sarmatian Mountains where they reach the banks of the Danuvius River. We entered a tunnel into the mountain’s south side and stepped inside this chamber. We started moving west, and a little south, by my estimation, and I did not feel us turn to either side the whole time we have been in here. We went down for a little while, but now we seem to be moving straight.”
“Do you know where that would take us?”
“From what I remember of the maps, we are in the middle of the Alps now,” said Malleus. “Or under them.”
Austinus opened his eyes and stretched his arms again, making a show of yawning. He stood and stretched his back and addressed Krum Chimmek. “You called yourself ‘Truth-Speaker’ of the Kobolds,” he asked in slow, careful Greek. “Are you a king?”
Krum Chimmek answered in fluent, sophisticated Greek. “No, my people—you call us ‘Kobolds,’ but that is not our term for ourselves—abandoned the obsolete form of hereditary monarchy long, long ago. I have been elected by all our people to be the lead representative of our people to the outside world.”
“A democracy! Fascinating! So who is your leader?”
“Our Niech Riagleth is also elected every 20 years by the entire population. Everyone has a vote.”
“Even women?”
“By all means. Monarchy or absolutism as practiced by you Romans and other states, is an unnecessary, artificial and evil system of organizing a people, for it is based on the unsupportable idea that one person is inherently worthier and wiser than others. It is nothing but a bully system. The strongest bully claims the kingship, and forces lesser bullies to support him by bullying weaker people. And when one of the lesser bullies believes he can defeat the king, he does so. Your history proves that, over and over again.”
“An interesting perspective on history,” Austinus admitted. “But how does a democratic system, where every citizen has a say in decisions, deal with emergencies?”
Tiana sighed. She had hoped that Austinus would pry some useful information out of their host/captor, but it seemed as if he had become engrossed in one of his favourite debates.
“We deal with emergencies by avoiding them,” Krum Chimmek said. “We are prepared for every eventuality, and when they inevitably happen, we have a plan whereby everyone responds, each in his
or her own way.”
The sound of the bog sciopa changed: the deep throbbing sound became higher pitched, the floor rocked back and forth twice, the whoosh became louder. They all felt the craft slow. There was a shudder, and the Kobolds stood at attention.
One final lurch and a sound like steam, and the bog sciopa stopped. More hissing steam, and the door slid silently open. Krum Chimmek led his captives out, followed by his company of Kobolds. Stuhach stumbled out last, bending his scaly bulk under the bog sciopa’s lintel.
They were in a wide chamber under rock, similar to the one where they had boarded the cylindrical craft. The broad floor was made of smooth, polished granite, as were the arching walls. The whole space was lit by more of the Kobolds’ glowing globes.
Krum Chimmek led them through another high, broad tunnel, up a ramp and then a wide staircase of polished black granite. No one spoke, but their footsteps echoed long and deep. They came into another broad chamber, this one dramatic and beautiful. The floors were black marble with rippling white streaks and speckles, and the walls were decorated and carved with animals, men and trees that rose up to a ceiling too high to see in the glare of a hundred glow-globes. Javor realized that these were more than just decorations—the carvings, in which the twisting, rippling colours of the marble were a part of the depictions, were actually a huge mural that told the story of the Kobold people. He saw gods and men, dragons and giants.
Krum Chimmek led them across the beautiful gleaming floor to the very centre, where twelve chairs were arrayed on a wide dais. On each sat a bearded Kobold: some had white beards, some dark brown, others red. As they drew closer, Javor realized that half of them were the Kobold women: even though they had beards, they had delicate faces and small hands and shoulders and large, expressive green and brown eyes. Some are even beautiful, despite the beards.
