At Storm's Edge

by Logan Petty

  Party B agrees that some damage to the desired package may occur, and that it will not hold Party A responsible for broken bones or missing limbs as long as the package is delivered in a state of living. Party A agrees that should the package die, Party A will offer compensation in the form of bound servitude until the price of the package is paid for in full.

  Upon the delivery of the desired package, Party A will receive an agreed upon payment of the ownership of Party B's personal treasury. Should either party break this contract, the curse bound to both parties willingly shall take effect.

  Signed,

  Lord High Patriarch Malsivith

  Aerabis

  Officiated by High Lord King Tharixos, Ruler of Earth and Sky

  Naralei read over it twice before rolling it back up and shoving it into her tunic. She crept to the tent’s exit, listening for any noise. Nothing but the whistling winter wind reached her ears. With a gentle hand, she opened the flap slightly and peered around. Pale moonlight washed over the complex of tents around her. No guards came running. She held her breath as she slipped out of her prison and into the open. Even nature seemed to hold its breath as she moved through the silent camp, eyes flicking left and right. She ducked behind a pile of firewood as a jumble of voices grew ahead of her.

  The voices never grew louder, so she decided to venture closer. As she darted from tent to tent, a red glow became visible in the sky above the camp. She knew she approached the hub. The voices grew louder as she went, now dodging into the shadows to avoid the odd wandering mercenary. Aerabis’s crowing burst over sporadic cheers and rounds of encouragement. Nara climbed a nearby stack of barrels onto the top of a sturdy looking covered cage. Something stirred beneath her as she crawled to the edge to peer over.

  A large crowd of rowdy men and women flocked around Aerabis as he gestured to arouse more excitement. His remaining captains, four large, muscular trolls, stood around him in a box formation, baring their fangs and howling menacingly.

  As the crowd grew quiet, Aerabis spoke again. “Done are the days of suffering and death! Under the Grey King’s banner, we will attain the promise! We, the glorified undead, will usher in a new era! The only one that stands between us and that promise is the accursed Swerdbrekker! But know that you may rest assured in knowing our king has provided for his capture and defeat! The Golden Stag lies just beyond that ridge, cowering in the darkness. Our holy flames will smoke him out and the king’s shining carrot will lure him to his doom!”

  Naralei smiled to herself as she climbed back down the cage. She wove her way quickly and quietly through the maze of tents and barrels until she made it to an outcrop of rocks that could cover her ascent back up the mountain and toward the rest of the Ghosts. Sorry, Aerabis, but I won’t be around to see your plan fall apart. We’ll be the ones waiting for you when you drag your corpses up the mountain.

  . . .

  Norzhal scanned the crowd vigilantly as her leader riled the silly humans he used as fodder. She snarled as they cheered and danced for joy at the false promises Aerabis spouted. This rabble would buy into anyone who offered them something more than what awaited them in their home holds. Her nostrils flared at the stench they generated. Two hundred of the finest beggars, vagabonds, and general undesirables that Jordborg and Borukstad could produce, and at the low price of a promise. It did not surprise her that the Swerdbrekker tore through them so quickly, but even paupers can fight like devils when they do not fear death.

  The glint of elvish eyes reflected the firelight from atop one of the Dobhar-chú cages. She glared at them as the master’s speech rattled on in the ugly common tongue of man. The eyes flickered back into the darkness and a shadow darted down from the cage. Norzhal smiled as she edged over to Aerabis and nudged him, speaking to him in her native tongue. “Your shining carrot has taken to the trail.”

  Aerabis sighed with relief. “About time. I wasn’t sure how long I could keep this up.”

  A wicked grin spread across his cracked lips as he glanced up the mountain. “Flee, little carrot. Run as fast as you can. Take us to your precious ward that we may reap the golden stag.

  Chapter Five:

  A flurry of grappling hooks soared from the far side of the chasm, sinking their teeth into the earth on the far side. The goblins on the other end quickly uprooted them and worked as a team to weave a network of rudimentary rope bridges before hammering the hooks back into the ground. Once finished, they scurried across them in single file. Sawain watched them cross the dark gap, reminded of the ants he used to watch march along tree trunks in the summertime at the farm. Within moments, the rest of the Uuthri Clan had crossed, leaving the Ghosts alone on the other side. Magina sauntered up to the edge and beckoned Sawain, waving her hand with added bravado. She tilted her head back and raised an eyebrow, grinning smugly.

  “Come now, Swerdbrekker, best to not keep your hosts waiting!”

  Sawain eyed the makeshift bridges suspiciously as he approached the ledge. Each one amounted to a very long, loose braid and could not be crossed like normal. He sighed and sank to his hands and knees. His heart raced as he grabbed the rope weave and glanced into the darkness below.

  Magina must have sensed his hesitation as she called out, a chuckle in her tone. “Don’t trust Goblin ingenuity, eh Swerdbrekker? Surely a mighty hero as yerself ain’t afraid of a wee gap like this?”

  Sawain grit his teeth as he forced his vision forward. “If I was afraid, I would have sent Banthan across first.”

  Banthan’s protests echoed in his ears as if they came from a great distance off. He barely even registered their meaning as he shifted all of his weight onto the bridge and placed his feet over the edge. The ropes creaked as he swayed violently back and forth. He tensed every muscle he could imagine as he fought for equilibrium. He moved quickly, sliding his left foot in tandem with his right hand as he inched along. The ropes shifted and everything turned upside down. Sawain froze as he wrapped his legs around the rope and looked up. The darkness of the abyss below him glared back. He willed himself to look ahead as he sank lower, and shimmied onward.

  The bridge swayed violently again as Banthan clambered onto it. Sawain held his breath until the swaying slowed. He did not account for others crossing at the same time. As soon as he could, he continued his advance, quicker than before. The far end of the chasm stood within reach. Sawain’s gaze shifted to the hooks that twisted back and forth as the commuters moved along the bridges. He lunged the last few feet and scrambled to the solid ground, breathing hard. He glanced back to check on the others.

  Banthan lead the line, a look that bordered boredom on his face. Mari, Timbrell, and Kyra crawled slowly across the other lines, two at a time while Jatharr stood at the ledge, unmoving. He stared downward into the abyss. Sawain felt a hand grab under his arm. Magina hoisted him, grunting with effort. He obliged and staggered to his feet.

  She smirked up at him. “That wasn’t so bad now, was it? The others seem to be naturals at gob-bridge climbing.”

  “They’re Alfhaven rangers. It’s not much different from the terrain of their homeland when you think about it. And Kyra, well she’s probably under a few magicks right now.” He glanced at the dark spots along the ropes behind her. The bloodstains affirmed his guess.

  Magina nudged him and pointed at Jatharr. “That old Halfling ye’ve brought doesn’t look like he can make it. Want me to send a crew over to help him along?”

  Sawain shook his head and shouted out to his friend. “Captain Jatharr! This chasm is nothing compared to the great expanse of Underfell Town. Don’t think too much about it.”

  Jatharr shook his head slowly as he stared down into the darkness. “Yes, but we used elevators to cross the Ravine. This… is suicide.” His drake nudged him gently, serpentine eyes glimmering in the near darkness. He instinctively reached out for him, muttering his name under his breath. “Ohrædr… ‘Fearless’, right…?”

  The drake pressed low to the ground and slid h
is head beneath Jatharr, upending him quickly. The Halfling yelped as he soared into the air, landing forcefully on Ohrædr’s back. The drake scurried to the ropes without hesitation. “NonononoNOOO!” Jatharr’s protests echoed from the cavern walls as his drake shimmed across, staying upright the entire way. The other drakes followed suit behind him. Once across, Jatharr relinquished his death-grip on Ohrædr’s neck and slid to the ground, a cold sweat dripping from his brow.

  Sawain offered him a hand. “Dignity aside, at least you made it across.”

  Jatharr glared up at Sawain and batted his hand away. “Not funny.”

  Sawain shrugged, “Never said it was.” He left Jatharr to regain his composure and turned his attention to Magina. “You know who I am, but forgive me if I’ve never heard of you. What is a dwarf doing in goblin country, commanding said goblins like her own personal army?”

  She shrugged as she pivoted and made for the hidden tunnel she came from. “They aren’t my personal army, they’re my friends. Gobs get a bad reputation above ground, but that’s just you light-dwellers assuming that everyone who lives in the mountains are evil. They’re really great chaps once you get to know ‘em.”

  Sawain hastened after her. “Hey, where do you think you’re going? What’s your angle? How do you know my name?”

  Magina glanced over her shoulder before disappearing behind the rocks. “You always so full of questions?”

  Banthan nudged Kyra. “How long before he takes a swing at her?”

  She sighed as she followed Sawain, muttering under her breath. “Seven minutes.”

  Timbrell chuckled. “You’re too generous, lass. I say two. What about you, Mari?”

  She trotted past Timbrell and Banthan, holding three fingers high in the air.

  Banthan grinned. “It’s on. I just hope she swings first.”

  Sawain waded through the surge of goblins as they poured into the hidden entrance. Magina managed to stay just ahead of him, strutting so confidently. Her very posture stirred the fires inside him. “Where do you think you’re taking us? Hey! I am talking to you!”

  Magina led him into a much wider tunnel that forked from two others, much like the ones they passed before. Sawain struggled to keep up and soon found himself swept along by the river of goblins. This kept on for seven minutes exactly, until Magina stopped at a dead end rock wall. Sawain pressed through the goblin horde and spun Magina around, pinning her shoulders against the wall. “You’re going to answer me or I’m going to kill you and all your little friends. Understand?”

  Kyra grinned as she held her palms out. The other Ghosts grumbled under their breaths as they dug through their coin pouches, each offering a gold piece to her outstretched hands. Banthan griped. “That shouldn’t count.”

  Magina winked at Sawain and shoved her elbow into a rock in the wall. Dust filled the room as a current of air escaped from the new cracks that formed as the wall sank into the earth, revealing a much larger chasm than the one they came from.

  Sawain’s jaw slackened as he stared at the underground city. The cavern glittered as if ten thousand stars had embedded themselves within its walls. Dozens of stone towers with intricate turrets and windows that cast warm light into the open air held the ceiling aloft. Winding roads snaked their way back and forth, spiraling up the towers at different points and turning into a spider web of suspension bridges high above the floor.

  Magina slipped from Sawain’s grasp and planted a forceful punch on his chin, sending him stumbling. “Welcome to Glittervein Gulch, and if you ever threaten me again, I will let my friends eat you.” At this, the goblins nearby cheered and pressed closer to the outsiders, poking at them with bony fingers a moment before losing interest and wandering away into the city.

  Banthan laughed at Kyra. “Called it! Hand them over!”

  Kyra huffed. “What? But he attacked first!”

  Banthan wagged a finger. “Take it from someone who has been on the receiving end of a Swerdbrekker swing. He did not.”

  Kyra frowned and handed him the gold as she stomped past him. “Whatever. Not like it’s much use to us right now anyway.”

  Banthan nudged Mari, pointing his thumb at Kyra. “Sawain’s girlfriend is a bit of a joy killer, eh?”

  Mari shoved past him, fists clenched.

  He shrugged it off, sighing to Timbrell. “Girls are no fun when they haven’t slept in a few weeks, huh?”

  Timbrell yawned loudly, stretching his tiny limbs. “Well, who is, lad? Maybe now that we are here among friends, we can all catch up on some rest.”

  Banthan visibly shuddered. “Friends don’t consider eating their friends.”

  As his comrades bantered amongst themselves, Sawain followed Magina down the nearest road. He walked in silence for several minutes, massaging his jaw. “Why did you bring us here?”

  Magina laughed, “You’re a great hero, right? At least that’s what your friends told us.”

  “Friends?”

  “Yeah, the strange folk in the cloaks that all wear masks. And you think we’re shady!” Magina shook her head.

  Sawain felt a tickle on the back of his neck he had to rub as the irony of her words sank in. “You’ve got me there.”

  “Well, are you?” Magina asked.

  “What, shady? Maybe a little.” Sawain replied.

  “No, you dummy! Are you a hero?”

  He sighed, “Some say I am.”

  Magina stopped and faced Sawain, her eyes serious for the first time. “I don’t care what others say. What do you say?”

  He hesitated a moment, remembering all those who died already. He pushed the thought away, remembering the friends who still stood by his side despite everything that has happened thus far. “Yes, I am a hero.”

  Magina grinned. “That’s what I wanted to hear! Good, we’ll need your help.”

  Sawain sped up to walk beside her as they continued. “I don’t mind, but we came here seeking your aid. The Chandlers told me you could help us rescue an ally of ours.”

  “Ah right, the troll Aerabis. I heard about him. Sounds like a nasty one.”

  “Well, he was. Last we met, I threw him off the mountain. But that hasn’t stopped his army.”

  “Nor did it stop him,” Magina shot him a sideways glance. “I was told he’s leading his army straight for us. As for your friend, I wouldn’t worry about her.” Magina led him up a spiral and into the tower it occupied as they talked.

  Sawain stopped at her last words. “If you know our plight, how could you tell me not to worry? If Aerabis is alive, he’s going to be very ill at me. How am I supposed to fight him if he has my only cousin held captive?”

  Magina grinned as she opened a metal door into the tower. The room inside glowed with light and warmth. Dozens of large cushions sat on the floor, mostly unoccupied, save two. At the far end, near the hearth, Naralei and Sibilach sat across from one another.

  As she saw Sawain, Naralei stood up from her seat, dropping the ceramic cup she held in her hands. “Sawain! I’m so sorry! I made a mistake. He’s coming. It’s all my fault. I—”

  As she apologized, Sawain crossed the room in large strides, wrapping his arms around her. He hugged her tightly for several seconds before letting go. The tears in his eyes refused to hold back as he smiled at her. “Good to see you again.”

  “I—Yeah… Good to be back.”

  Sawain wiped his face quickly and cleared his throat. He turned to the other Ghosts who now filtered in, each embracing Naralei and exchanging fond greetings. When Banthan approached her, he smiled sheepishly and averted his eyes from her gaze. “Hey Nara, welcome back. That troll didn’t try anything funny on you, did he?”

  “Why Banth, is that concern for another I detect?” Naralei grinned.

  He blushed and shrugged. “I just need an excuse to pick a fight. That’s all.”

  “A fight you have picked already, Son of Kvast.” Sibilach’s ethereal voice lilte
d in Banthan’s ears. She rose from her seat slowly, effortlessly, her silvery hair falling from the hood that covered her head. “The one called Aerabis marches upon the mountain with an army that shakes the rocks it treads. He will not rest until you are dead, Son of Skalda.”

  Sawain’s eyes radiated the anger that burned in his heart. “I won’t let him walk away again. Will you help us defeat Aerabis’ army?”

  “No,” the faerie woman replied firmly. “As always, it is your fate to bear. I am but a guide that directs your steps when the path grows dark.”

  Panic rang in his skull as the Chandler’s warning echoed in his mind. “Then you know—”

  “The day of battle approaches, Son of Skalda. Aerabis will be upon you by morning. I suggest you all rest until then.”

  Magina thumped Sawain on the arm. “Relax a bit, will ya? My boys will be up shortly with something edible. You can sleep here tonight. I recommend you don’t stay up late. We’ve got a tough fight ahead of us tomorrow.”

  Sawain rubbed his arm where she hit him. “So does that mean you’ll stand with us?”

  Magina flexed her arms, showing her impressive muscles. “’Course we are! No one comes to our door looking for a fight that won’t find it! Besides, after this, you’ll owe me a favor and I intend to collect!”

  Chapter Six:

  The goblins brought a spread of cured meats and fresh vegetables up to the tower that night. Given their preconceptions of goblin culture, despite Magina’s constant assurances, Sawain and his comrades gratefully ate the vegetables while avoiding the meat. The silence that permeated their dinner resembled that of a mausoleum. Sawain watched Timbrell fall asleep in a half-eaten melon before inhaling the seeds and coughing back to consciousness. Naralei seemed to be the only one wide-awake, despite her cuts and bruises.