by Scott Bury
Krum Chimmek marched up to the dais and stopped with a stomping of his feet. He greeted them in his ancient-sounding language, then switched to Greek. “Niech Riagleth, members of the comhairle, in addition to bringing the cruine-cnàimhich and its bearer, the troll Stuhach, as well as the daughter of our ally, the Princess Ingund and her brother, Miro, I present these four from Constantinople, who call themselves ‘seekers of truth.’ They, too, followed the blade.”
The Kobold in the centre of the group was the oldest. His silver beard hung over his ample belly, and he had tied it with a silver ribbon and then tucked the tuft at the end into his belt. He peered carefully at the three from Constantinople over his long, hooked nose. “And who are they?” he asked in a voice old as the mountain, yet powerful and clear.
Austinus stepped forward. “Greetings, Nich Reegleth. We seekers of knowledge …”
“This is the Hall of Speaking of the People of Knowledge, and none but the People may speak here without invitation,” the head Kobold said curtly. “Niech Riagleth is my title, not my name. In your terms, it means in your terms ‘first speaker of the many.’ My name is Goldemar.
“This realm has been hidden from your kind for centuries, and we are loathe to admit any of the race of men. At one time, you would have been killed at your first sight of this hall.” The other Kobolds on the dais nodded and muttered assent in their weird language.
“But these other people…” Austinus began, gesturing toward Miro and the Sklavenic company.
“I have already told you to be silent! These people are our allies, albeit reluctantly,” said Goldemar. “But I owe you no explanations. Time is growing short, and I will not decide your fate. It is bound up with the blade and the Eye, and I leave you in the hands of the King of the Mountain. We are bound thither now.” He rose, and the rest of the Kobold council, Krum Chimmek’s company and their prisoners followed him to a semi-circular recess carved smoothly into the far wall of the chamber. The circle was completed by a narrow curved gap on the floor, leaving a separate piece of smooth granite as wide as twice Javor’s height. The Koblolds stepped onto the circular stone, then turned to face away from the wall; the Sklavenes stepped onto it, pushing the three Gnostics and Javor. Ingund stepped on daintily and tried, but failed, to stand exactly in the centre. Stuhach then stepped onto the circle, and all the men and Koblolds got as far from it as they could.
Goldemar nodded and the humans all lurched a little as the circle began to rise smoothly with a slight hum. The semi-circular recess in the wall became a perfectly round hole in the ceiling. The Sklavenes and Stuhach were calm, but Ingund’s eyes were wide, and she looked as if she were trying very hard not to be sick. The Kobolds were silent.
As they rose, the hum echoed louder and the air grew colder. After a few minutes, Austinus thought he could see light far overhead. Finally, the platform slowed and stopped smoothly just as they emerged into the open air.
They were on a wide plateau on the side of a mountain. A chilling breeze blew from the snow-covered slopes on one side. A sheer cliff dropped on the other side. And in between was a magnificent hall, obviously human-made, as big as any basilica in Rome or Constantinople. It was covered in white marble and its roof gleamed silver in the light of the rising sun. At the front were tall doors of oak bound with bronze, and the back seemed to merge with the mountainside so that no one could see where manmade walls ended and natural rock began.
“What is this place?” asked Malleus, gaping.
“The hall of the self-styled Mountain King, Ingolf,” Goldemar answered. He led the group toward the high doors, which gleamed in the rising sun. Stuhach was trying to stay in the shadows, shading its hideous face with its enormous hands.
“Let us get inside quickly,” scraped its voice. Javor could see that the sunlight was weakening him, maybe even hurting him in some way.
Ingund seemed to have recovered her composure. She tilted her nose upward and stepped in front of the group, striding toward the hall. “Father!” she called. “I have come home!”
“Wait—the sun is not rising, it’s setting!” Malleus exclaimed. It was true; the last rays of the sun fell below the outlines of the mountains in the west and the gleam left the hall’s roof.
“How long were we on the bog sciopa?” Austinus asked.
“Half a night, and all the following day,” Krum Chimmek answered. “Although you did not realize it, you slept soundly during your journey. Worry not—you were safe in our hands. Hospitality toward our guests is one of our strictest mores.”
Part of the cliff detached from the mountain side and took on a gigantic humanoid shape, three times Javor’s height. Its every step shook the ground. Ingund ran behind Miro.
“Who goes there?” it asked in a voice like thunder echoing in the canyons below.
“Goldemar and the Yon-Sakathe, the People of Knowledge, are fulfilling our bargain with ‘King’ Ingolf,” answered the Niech Riagleth. “We are here at the agreed-upon time.”
The stone-giant opened one of the great doors to a spectacular royal citadel that surpassed the Roman Emperor’s. A double row of gilded columns held up the vast barrel-vaulted, blue-painted ceiling. Between the pillars, the light from torches in gilded posts shone in hundreds of jewels embedded in the walls. Heavy tapestries showed battle scenes and a wise king. The floor was the smoothest marble of black, grey, white and brown.
Ingund ran into the hall, crying “Daddy!” At the end of the hall stood a dais of shining black rock. Seven steps led up to its top, where sat a high oak throne, encrusted with gold and silver, and with gems of white, blue, red and green.
It was empty.
Krum Chimmek marched to the foot of the steps and came to a ritual halt. The other Kobolds spread in a double line. They stood at attention, waiting for something.
Miro and his warriors stood by, uncertain. Ingund peered toward the back of the hall. And behind them all stood Stuhach, its face unreadable.
The great door closed with a boom; its echoes were replaced by a brassy fanfare from the back of the hall, clashing of metal and heavy footsteps. From the shadows of the hall emerged a troop of soldiers in full armour. They wore pointed iron helmets decorated in silver, heavy mail tunics and black trousers. Each carried a shield on his left arm and held a long sword pointed up in front of his face. They marched out and stopped in front of the dais, facing the visitors.
Behind them, a herald in a long black and white robe announced “Ingolf, King of the Mountain and the Ostrogoth people!”
Ingund bowed elaborately, sweeping her arms back. Krum Chimmek, Goldemar and the other Kobolds bowed respectfully. Miro and the other warriors stood to attention. The four from Constantinople did not know what to do.
The King was a tall, handsome young man with long legs, long brown hair and a thick moustache, wearing simple blue and white tunic and trousers, and high, soft-looking brown boots. A red cloak was wrapped over one shoulder, held in place with a great golden brooch decorated with an amber gem. Beside him in clothes of exactly the same design was a young boy who could have been no more than seven years old. He had big blue eyes and curly dark-brown hair. He was almost a copy of Ingolf.
Ingund threw her arms around the King. He embraced her and kissed her forehead.
“Ingund, I cannot tell you how happy I am to see you again, unhurt. Are you well?”
“Yes, father,” she said, sobbing. “I have succeeded in my mission!”
“Good, wonderful!” Ingolf said, but he did not look very pleased. “Your mother will be very proud.” He extricated himself from Ingund’s arms, and took his young son to the top of the dais.
“Daughter, Miro, I am very glad to see you return to my hall, unscathed. And greetings to you, Goldemar and the People of Knowledge. But where is Stanislaw? And who are your prisoners? Most important, why have you allowed this hell-spawn into my hall?” He looked at Stuhach, which flicked its forked tongue in and out of its mouth.
“Stanislaw
is dead, my king,” Miro answered in a bold voice, standing at full attention. “Murdered by this fiend!”
“I bring the blade that was the goal of this mission,” came the metal-on-stone scraping voice of Stuhach.
“That was not the goal of the mission I sent my best men on, fiend!” Ingolf thundered. “The mission was to rescue my daughter from Rome! You were to provide protection against the Legions, not kill my brother!”
“We destroyed a Legion,” Stuhach scraped, his tongue flicking in and out of his mouth. “Rome will fear to venture north of the great river again for a long time.”
“And where is this blade that was worth the life of my general and how many other good men?” Stuhach held it up. “Bring it here,” Ingolf ordered.
“No,” Stuhach answered. “It is not the property of men.”
Ingolf’s face reddened, but before he could say anything, Goldemar cleared his throat. “If I may, your Majesty. My people have fulfilled our side of our agreement. We have provided transportation and brought your warriors and your daughter safely to you. I am sorry for the loss of your good men, but Krum Chimmek, here, tells me that they had already lost their lives when he found the troop. All that being said, we would like to retrieve our property, as we agreed at the outset of this mission.
Ingolf looked down at the Kobolds. “In good time, Goldemar. First, tell me why you have brought these four strangers here?”
Krum Chimmek spoke up. “We found them with your men, fighting Stuhach’s monsters. They seem to have been captured by your men, and I thought it best to prevent them from bringing intelligence to your enemies.”
“Without their help, Stuhach and its fellow hell-spawn would have slain and doubtlessly eaten all of us!” Miro exclaimed. He turned to the monster. “You will pay for murdering my father!”
“Hold, Miro!” Ingolf ordered. “I must get to the bottom of this. Now, strangers, tell me yourselves: who are you, and what brought you to my men?”
Austinus bowed formally. “We are Gnostics, seekers of mystic knowledge, now living in Constantinople but originally from far-flung quarters of the world. My name is Austinus; this is my wife, Tiana; and this is our good friend and best fighter, as well as a wise mystic in his own right, Malleus. And this tall one is our apprentice, Javor, but also one of your countrymen, I believe, being from the North.
“But please indulge my curiousity: you call yourself ‘Ingolf,’ but you cannot be the Ingolf from the Battle of Mons Lactarius—that was over thirty years ago.”
The King of the Mountain smiled a little. “That was I. I have fixed my age at thirty years. What were you doing in Pannonia?”
“We were looking for answers to a great mystery, and travelled up the great river Danuvius until we came upon the survivors of a Roman Legion that had been all but wiped out by what they called ‘monsters.’ Well, of course, we took that with a grain of salt, but soon after we found your men camping, just a few nights ago.”
“We caught them spying,” said Miro. “We took them captive, but when the monsters turned on us, we cut them free. And a good thing we did, too, or we would all be dead!”
“You have said that, Miro,” Ingolf said impatiently. “Now be quiet.”
“There is more to tell, King Ingolf!” said Krum Chimmek. “The blonde one, the one they say is one of you, only joined the group at our waystation, carried there by a dragon!”
Ingolf was shocked. “What do you mean?”
“A large dragon, with dark scales. It tried to take the blade from the troll, your servant. But the troll fought it off and retrieved the blade. Our blade. We then took the dragon-rider prisoner.”
“It’s my dagger!” Javor exclaimed, unable to keep his mouth shut any longer. Everyone looked at him, except for Stuhach, which only flicked its tongue. The dagger was still in its claw.
Tiana decided to take a great risk. “King Ingolf, the dagger that Stuhach holds was the property of our friend. The dragon took it from him in Constantinople. Obviously, Stuhach wrested it away after that point.”
“Tiana!” Austinus exclaimed.
“There is no use hiding these truths anymore, my dear. We must make clear to King Ingolf the danger of their alliance with the underworld.”
Ingolf came down from the dais. “So, you are Javor from the northern mountains. You’re a big, strapping young lad—it’s too bad we did not meet earlier. I could have used more like you in my army.”
“I would never join you!”
“Why not?”
“You’re allied with—things like that,” he nodded toward Stuhach. “Like the chort that killed my parents!”
Ingolf nodded. “Yes. Some necessary alliances are regrettable. But fighting Rome without them was futile. And when it comes to incursions into our hereditary territory by Avars, well, they are quite useful, wouldn’t you agree?”
Javor sputtered. “You sent Ghastog? You murdered my parents!”
Ingolf shrugged. “If they were stupid enough to get between an ogre and its quarry, it’s their own fault.”
Javor head-butted the King in the face. Ingolf went down with a grunt and his men charged forward. One knocked Javor to the ground and held a sword point to his face. Two other guards helped the King to his feet until he shook them off angrily.
“Shall I kill him, my King?” the guard asked.
“Not yet,” Ingolf said, rubbing his head. “I want to find out more about this dragon.”
“I think you will want to kill him when I tell you he claims to be Ingund’s lover!” said Miro.
Ingund gasped and Ingolf stiffened, eyes wide. He turned toward his daughter, but before he could say a word, he was interrupted again, this time by a distant gong.
Chapter 34: The goddess’ cave
“The Queen summons!” called the herald. Ingolf, his son, daughter and the herald marched to the back of the hall. The black-clad soldiers herded the others after the King.
At the back of the hall, a stream fell in a tinkling spray into a carved pool. In the centre of the pool, guarded by four white pillars, was a white marble statue of the goddess of love and beauty. A stream flowed out of the pool into a wide cave that opened in the mountainside that formed the back wall of the hall. The herald led the way along a broad path beside the stream.
Inside the cave there was almost no light, save for a few torches carried by the herald and some of the soldiers. Their light, far inferior to the Kobolds’ glowing globes, reflected greenly in the water of the stream, and footsteps echoed eerily. To Javor’s amazement, the tunnel was high enough for the monster Stuhach to walk unstooped.
The herald halted at the edge of a huge underground lake and raised his arm. A long, empty boat with a high prow and stern glided silently closer without a visible means of propulsion. It stopped against a sort of natural stone jetty, and the herald led the others aboard.
Javor worried that Stuhach would capsize the vessel, but though it tipped when the monster stepped aboard, it righted itself and then, without warning or sound, started back across the water.
The shore quickly disappeared into the dark. Soon, he could see the far side: a strange light, a sort of garden (But how do things grow underground, away from the sun?), and what appeared to be benches.
And in the middle, raised on a small platform, a woman reclined on a comfortable couch, stroking a huge black cat with bright yellow eyes. As the people, Kobolds and monster disembarked, the woman stood.
She was very tall, with long blonde hair. She wore a long and nearly transparent white robe, and gold rings on each finger. There were gold bangles around her wrists and a necklace of gold and amber across her chest. Her hair was bound by a wide band of gold that held a large amber sphere in the middle of her forehead. This is Kriemhild, Javor knew. Who else could it be?
“Mother!” Ingund cried. “Mother, I succeeded in my mission! I am pregnant!”
The Queen gazed at her visitors. Her eyes widened when they landed on Tiana, but then the y
oung boy ran up to her and hugged her. She smiled a little and patted his head. She kissed Ingund on the cheek. “Well done, daughter. The plan has come together,” she said in a voice deep and earthy, yet musical. “We now have the required elements for the ceremony. Two of the Companions are here. Your child will be the key to our power over the whole world.
“I am glad that you have fulfilled your mission, as well, Stuhach,” Kriemhild continued. “Now give me the Second Companion.”
“The blade?” the monster said in its awful, scraping voice. “No. I will keep it.”
The Queen just looked at the monster. She raised her right hand to the big amber ball on her forehead and held her left hand out. She looked into the monster’s eyes, and the monster stared back at her.
No one else could speak or even move. Tiana felt like she was choking. Then Stuhach began to stoop. Its eyes never left the Queen, but its back bent and its head went lower and lower. It put its free claw on the marble floor and it began to tremble. Finally, it reached out a shaking claw and placed the dagger in Kriemhild’s hand. Then it crawled backward to the stone wall.
Kriemhild lifted the dagger high and laughed wildly. “Yes! The Fang is mine! My final victory is at hand!”
She turned and walked up to Tiana. “And you are the last ornament in my triumph, Te-ma-arun-Vd-a, priestess of my sister Tabita. It is good to have a Solar witness.”
“My name is Tiana,” she said, shaking.
“We all know it is not.”
“And who are you?” Austinus demanded, stepping between the two women.
“Have respect, man,” Ingolf warned, but the Queen held up her hand and the King closed his mouth.
“I am Ildico, Queen of the Ostrogoths,” she said. “I have also been called Kriemhild and Gudrun, and I am the Goddess of the Alps.”
“Ildico?” Austinus asked. “Your husband claims to be 60 years old and one of Totila’s generals—are you saying that you married Atilla the Hun over 100 years ago?”
