by Jason Jones
“So, I’ll be takin’ care o’ everything then?! With the mines, and home, and Zen and papi!?” Rhosda yelled down the tunnel, then coughed, waiting for her husband to reply.
“Aye! Ye’ be the smart one and all! Do what needs doin’, we be back in a few days or so, brown eyes, won’t be long!” Kimmarik yelled, waved and turned as he walked away, kissing his hand and waving it again.
Zen held his mothers hand, kept a close eye on his papi and his rusty box, and smiled as he watched his heroes head to the north, to a battle he was too young to fight in, but would surely dream about, every night until they returned.
of hammers and storms
Heirs IV:II
Evermont
Shanador
345 AD
…fifty one years later
“Through pain and suffering, time and toil, the words of God will be sent from the holy mountain when you be most in need of them. Should you listen, be open in spirit to His will, and be pious to Vundren, He will never let his devout fail.”---excerpt prayer from the Golhiarden, read from the holy tablet of law, passages of the dwarven family, kept in Boraduum.
Circa 1643 BC
Azenairk sniffled, rubbed his shaved head, then pulled his black braided beard to keep the tears back in his deep brown eyes. He looked down to the shield, his brother Tads and a family treasure from generations. He smiled at the twin axes over the moon, and all of the scratches from battle. The crest of Thalanaxe, at least he still had that. The shield tapped against his greaves, Geadriks greaves. Zen let out a sigh, and then inhaled deep to focus. He had never told anyone of these things, not aloud anyway, only in prayer to Vundren.
“Go on.”
Zen looked at the thick red lace in front of him, the dark wood in the closet of a prayer room, he focused back to the moment. He had forgotten it was a temple to Alden, forgotten he was in Evermont in Shanador for the last month or more, the memories were still fresh and vivid five decades later. He smiled at the feathered cross sewn into the crimson lace in golden thread. He took a big breath and tried to continue.
“Well, me brothers never came home, not walkin’ upright anyway. That was the last time me family was together, happy, had any hope. Twas about thirty giants in the Bori, with over three hundred ogre. Should have been an easy win, and it was with five thousand black beards. But, me father and brothers, they led the second brigade, first ones into the ambush after the first brigade was taken down. Over four hundred o’ me people perished in all but three minutes I heard, then me father charged in. Me brothers died quick they said, and me father fought with a rage that had scared even the other dwarves. King told me mum her husband killed four giants there, and thirty ogre, alone.” Zen put his head down on the wooden shelf. “They said that..that..they never seen anything like that, when me father killed them and…and..roared…”
“Continue.”
“Me brothers… me older brothers Tad and Gead was buried, me father went to drinkin’ in his silence and grief. He and me mum talked little after that. Then papi passed on about a year later. My papi.” The tears creased the corners now, blurring Zen’s vision as he sat and fought them. He gripped his hands over and over, trying not to cry.
“I am listening.”
“Whewww. Allright. The mines did flourish, and we was rich, but it was a hollow victory there. Then my mum…my mum…she got sick in the chest, it got bad it did. She passed on two years after my papi.” The words were hard, like iron that wanted to rise up his throat.
“Go on my son.” The voice was low, almost if tears were choking back on the other side of the curtain as well.
“Enough with the son rubbish, I be nearly twice yer age then. I just need to be tellin’ someone, in case we don’t be comin’ back from where we be headed is all. Vundren’s mercy!”
“Well I have never done this before, not on this side anyway. Sorry, go on, Azenairk.”
“Tis allright, sorry bout that then. Where was I?”
“Your mother.”
“Right. After she passed, my father left the mines to one o’ the older workers. But, they ran dry. My father did all he could, hoarded all our things from bout seven or eight generations he had collected back, and finally he just accepted it. We was done. He found old things, banners and deeds, supposedly related to a king once we was, but in the end it mattered not. He had taken out some loans and favors to open even more mines, and they was dry too, or filled with worthless fools gold. Taxes came, debts called over the years, and then he got sick. He passed two centuries, a long life for a dwarven man, but sorrow and grief had been naggin’ at him like the worst o’ plagues.”
“Where were you, during all of this, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Oh, my father, the great Kimmarik he was, he wouldn’t accept it. The one thing he never missed a coin on, was me. He had me the finest mentors, the full tutelage at the temple o’ Boraduum, and he never missed a mass. Especially when it was me, his little agrvund, presiding with the bishop ye’ see. The day I was confirmed and got me hammer and moons, you’d a thought he was the king o’ the whole continent.”
“I am sure he was proud.”
“Proudest father in Boraduum he was, even…even…until his last breaths.”
The tears fell, fell harder than they had in decades. Zen thought of how he was in line to be the next bishop, the next spiritual leader of Boraduum, perhaps bringing the old titles of High Hammers and such back to his people. He looked to the rusty box in his hand, blurred and watery through his tears, and pounded his fist on the wooden door to the confession room. That box and its contents, were all he had left to remember his father and family by.
“You need a moment?”
“Naye, no. It’s just, just, I miss em all so damn much is all!” Azenairk wiped his face, though it did little good. “I couldn’t save em, I was too damn young, and I didn’t know what to damn do!”
“There is no blame, I can understand that feeling of helplessness. Go on.”
“Sorry for cursin’ in yer church there Alden, Vundren has me forgiveness, just borrow some from him then.” Zen chuckled, mirrored in laughter from the other side.
“Why me?”
“Cuz’, ye be the closest thing to a priest I have here, and a close friend ye are, James Andellis. Yer’ the best human I know, and a good man, a solid knight without fear. Ye’ overcome odds, from what I know of ye’, odds that woulda’ seen most in their graves. And, ye’ be blessed. You know it, n’ I know it. Priest or no, I needed to speak to someone o’ faith today that would keep it quiet, before we go.”
“The others, you know they love you as much as I do, they---“
“I know it, I know. But the elf, she’d likely cry more than me from hearin’ it. Saberrak, he’d want to hear the fightin’ parts in detail, and Gwenneth, well, there was no magic so she’d a fell asleep by now.” Zen stood, stretched his legs and pulled his beard. He put the box back in his leather pouch.
“I saw those books you had read, the ones in the library. That have anything to do with this?”
“Aye. Ye’ read about it too then?”
“I did. You are afraid, aren’t you Zen?”
“A bit. Said there that twelve times over the last sixteen hundred years did they send excursions into the lost lands we be headin’ to. Stormlands they call it, curselands maybe, ain’t nothin’ but death there, James. I had to read up on it, see what has been told of it. Nothing, because no one ever---“
“And? Stories in books frighten you, mighty Thalanaxe?”
“James, just from Shanador alone, over ten thousand men never returned from where we is going! Armies gone, hardened and reputable lords and knights never seen again, and we be just five of us! Five! That not be countin’ any dwarves that went, nor anyone from Armondeen or other kingdoms around---”
“So? They did not have the key, the dust, and they were not us, Zen. All we have been through, survived, what we have seen, it is all for something. Even I
have no doubts anymore, even me Zen. Do not lose your faith, not now.”
“I knows it, I know. That be why I am here, a little spiritual kick in the ars as we round the last bend. Lot weighing on this ye’ know, all our deaths and all.” Zen smiled, feeling better having gotten some of his worries and guilts out.
“I have your back, so do the others. Do not doubt that, not ever. We are your family now.”
“Allright, I s’pose we should pray then and seal this up. No feathers though, no offense Alden, but no feathers.”
“Well, take a knee then.” James still whispered.
Zen took a knee. He breathed deep, clearing his mind for the will of Vundren, while a knight of Chazzrynn whispered a prayer in a church of the feathered cross, far from his home.
“Alden, lord of heaven, Vundren, lord of the mountains, I ask you give Azenairk Thalanaxe forgiveness for all that he has done, not done, and for the fear in his heart. I know there is nothing to fear, and that it is simply the guilt of not being there at his fathers end that weighs upon him. I know also that the grief, the pressure, and the history of this dwarf of Boraduum that sits before us now, and I ask your blessings upon him. He is the most pious, gifted, and daring of men that I know, and he has saved me more than once, even in my darkest hours. Lords, should you see fit in your grace and wisdom, take that fear that doubt has shadowed over he and his family, cast it away, and replace it with the strength and courage that we all know he has. Lords, bless the last Thalanaxe, shine your lights upon him, so that he may carry us home, to whatever end, in your names and grace, Amen.”
“Amen. Fine words James, fine words.”
“See, no feathers.” James laughed, then stood and pulled the curtain back. The fresh air hit him in the face, cool compared to the last three hours in the confessional with his stocky friend listening the his entire family history.
“Not a word, nothin’ to the others. That be between you and me, Knight o’ Chazzrynn.” Zen reached his arms around James, giving him a big hearted squeeze.
“Not a word, you have my vow there. Now, the sun has risen and you know the elf never sleeps. Best we head back up to the rooms and eat before they realize we have been out.” James straightened his tabard and turned with Zen.
“Oh we realize already, and the elf is starving. I would have hoped this last morning meal in Evermont would not have been staring at me for the last hour while we waited for you men.” Shinayne was leaning in the doorway to the temple of Alden, orange glows of the western sunrise painting her beauty and grace in with the light that shone so high above the ground.
“How long ye’ been there, elf?”
“Long enough. I would not have cried like you think, I would have controlled it for you Zen, out of respect. I lost my parents too you know, yet they are out there, somewhere.” Shinayne looked out to the sky, the open hills of Shanador, to the mountains in the east.
“I know, I guess yer right. I just, I just..ummm….”
She walked up to Zen and put her hand on his shoulder. Her aquamarine eyes stared into his. “I know, men confess to men, women to women. I am no priestess, and Siril is far from who the two of you pray to. But, do not think for a moment that I am not there with you, to whatever end, all the way, like I promised.”
“Thank ye’ Shinayne. I know it, I do. Lookin’ ye’ in the eye is harder than talkin’ to James through feathered lace.” Zen put his hand on hers.
“Good morning, Lady T’Sarrin.” James embraced her close.
“It is, Sir James of Chazzrynn.” She smiled, playing upon titles and pleasantries as they often did. Shinayne held him a moment longer, lifting her nose toward his trim amber beard. Her smile widened in sincerity.
“Sorry, my lady of Kilikala, but it has been six weeks, and not a drop.” James smiled, knowing she was smelling for wine or spirits, from his slip in vowed abstinence back in Marlennak and Deadman’s Pass.
“Good man, keep it that way.”
“Where are the others then?” Zen looked to the steps down out of the elevated temple upon the mountainside of Evermont.
“What, you think they waited to eat? No, it is always the elf that has to find, to pay, to hunt down the men, to rescue everyone, and to sneak about.” Shinayne turned to lead the men to breakfast. Her golden curls were reflecting the sun along with her radiant tan skin.
“Ahh, me pointy eared maiden, deadly as you are, ye’ always bring a smile to my beard.” Zen walked with Shinayne, James on his other side.
The gray stone stairs were long leading down from the high rising Temple of the Holy Offering, giving a view of all of Evermont. Tall domed buildings, bridges from stretching castles to mountain ridges and walls, and the lowland farmsteads that grew to the north farther than the eye could see. Walls and outposts carried early morning Shanadorian guards between their routes hundreds of feet over the ground. Red cliffs rose to the east and south from the perilous Misathi. Lush green hills melded into the rising sun to the west, the west that the three companions stared at as they walked back down to their common room in Castle Evermont.
The shan wearing guards in plate and chain armor bowed their helmed heads and gripped their spears to attention. Shinayne nodded, followed by Zen and James as they passed through the open door from the elevated catwalk into their guest quarters. The rooms and stay at Castle Evermont had been four weeks of rest and pleasure, nothing short. Peace, food, safety, and long deserved sleep had been needed and delivered by the bold knights of the kingdom of the stallion and shield.
It was noisy inside, much more than when the highborn woman had left. In fact, the room was now full in early morning feast.
“Lady Shinayne, Lord Thalanaxe, Sir James of the falcon, please, your food is anxious to be devoured before our long journey.” Sir Jardayne stood and bowed, motioning them to sit in the cluttered room full of people big and small.
Zen held his breath, looking around at the fifteen Shans o’ Little Door, five knights of Evermont, barely finding Gwenneth and Saberrak in the muddle of company, servants, and guards.
“Our, long journey sir?” Zen faked a smile, his mind was racing.
“Well yes my stout and bearded friend, we have decided to give you and yours a royal escort. Well, royal in as much that we would dare with low king Symond in absence.” Jardayne of Highmont sat and popped a fresh strawberry into his mouth then beckoned with his hand for them to sit with the rest.
“Is that so then, truly Knight General, uhhh…may I ask---“ Zen stuttered, staring at the minotaur and the wizard he found at the great table now, wanting answers.
“Oh come now, my pious traveler, twill be most enjoyable. Who, other than great kings and wealthy rulers, should have the honor of we Shans o’ Little Door to play and accompany them in their travels?” Tubrey o’ Tarnobb spoke up from amidst his players small and stunted.
“Well, and ummm…you as well…ahh that be wonderful then, I s’pose.” Zen was fuming on the inside.
Zen sat, followed by the quiet elven noble and his knightly friend. His stare was now fierce into the tattooed eyes of Saberrak who was not looking back, just eating pork filets and fruits and ignoring most everything else. He stared at Gwenneth next, who sat beside the Bear of Evermont, Sir Codaius of Norninne. She shook her head at Zen, ever so slightly.
“So, uhhh, where ye’ thinks we be headin’ then, I was unaware that an escort was necessary with---“
“To reunite with your lost family of course, nothing more noble could I think of, you surprise me with your secrets and honor, Azenairk Thalanaxe. I shall sing songs of your devotion from here to eastern Pellan, all across great Shanador.” Tubrey raised his glass of golden morning wine mixed with chopped fresh fruit to Zen and drank.
“Oh, and ye’ think that ye be up to, such a task, truly? Perhaps I needin’ to be talkin’ with me companions for a moment, in private then.” Zen was gritting his teeth now. He had told them not to say a word.
“In truth, you would only require
myself to guard you on such a journey, but the others have insisted on tagging along. Ha!” Sir Codaius spoke up, elbowed Jardayne, his mass and weight nearly knocking his superior out of his chair.
“We know all about your cousins in Freemoore, Lord Thalanaxe, and we would be honored to escort you for the mere week there. I have royal business with Freemoore in any regard, as Armondeen has been harassing the free city and their merchants. Besides, low king Symond should be passing through on his return from Acelinne. I shall be giving him escort for the remainder of his return here, to Evermont. Thus, it is a convenience for us both, thine and mine own, good dwarf. I insist.” Sir Jardayne explained, curious as to why the dwarf would not wish an escort and company for just a weeks travel north to a border city.
His breath let out like a mountain of weight had just fallen off of his chest. Zen smiled, looking to Saberrak who huffed at him, then to Gwenneth who smiled back, and lastly to James and Shinayne sitting on his left.
He whispered to James. “Fine, allright. But what do we do when tis time to turn west? Just leave em in the mornin’ and head out without a word? What if they try findin’ us or followin’ or, Vundren’s Blessed Breastplate, now what?”
“It will be fine. Have faith, it will work out one way or the other.” James whispered back, raising his glass of water to a toast from yet another knight of Evermont.
“How many days before we turn west, Zen?” Shinayne whispered as the conversations carried on, some music strummed into the air, and everyone ate.
“How the eight hells should I know? From what I read, ye’ know where everyone died and never returned and all, four or so, when we see the yellow foothills o’ the Kaki Mountains, supposedly.”
“Then, we have four days to plan it.” She whispered back, enjoying the figs and morning wine.
