Bakkian Chronicles, Book I - The Prophecy

by Poole, Jeffrey

  “Haven’t been this tired since I did that cabling job in Los Angeles,” Steve remarked. “Only had about two hours of sleep a night for about a week straight.”

  “You were tired, that’s for sure,” Sarah agreed, helping him undress. “Just try to get some –”

  Steve’s snoring had already begun. Fortunately, the snoring was soft, and non-disturbing. Moments later, Sarah joined her husband. Her soft breathing mingled with her husband’s and together they slept like the dead.

  ****

  “So how did ye manage to find the female?” Maelnar asked, once everyone had breakfasted on the celebratory feast assembled in their honor.

  Mouth still full of food, Steve hooked a thumb at Breslin. “It was his idea. Said he had a notion where the female was hiding, by the source of some river. I forget which one.” Noting Sarah’s disapproving frown, he followed her eyes down to his plate and the area around him, which was now speckled with flecks of food. Nonchalantly scraping the remnants of his meal onto the floor he gave a sheepish smile to his wife. Kern, Rhein, and Pheron all quickly wiped their areas clean before Sarah could notice.

  “Ah, Duvvin river. I forgot about that. So she was hiding in Dyr’gyst Cavern, was she not?”

  Breslin nodded. “Aye.”

  “Are ye certain that she was destroyed?”

  “We saw the remains,” Rhenyon confirmed. “She was crushed in a cave-in. She had just set a trap for us when it backfired on her.”

  “How so?”

  Breslin spoke up. “When we arrived in the cavern, we noticed the caves along the river. Six I think, was it not, lads?”

  Steve and Rhenyon both nodded.

  “We wondered how to lure her out when sir Steve figured out a better way to get her attention. He sent four fireballs into the first four caves, and was preparing to send two more to the last two when the female emerged from one of the previously hit caves.”

  “Nasty, ugly sucker,” Steve agreed, picking up the thread of the story. “As soon as she came out there were like fifty bugs around her, protecting her. Had no clue where they came from. One minute it was just her, the next, a whole swarm of ‘em.”

  “Aye, they were trying to make her go into one of the last two caves. Damn near got her in one but a whole wave of them rushed us, causing sir Steve to miss. The cave was destroyed, but she managed to retreat into the last one.”

  “What happened then?” Maelnar and the rest of the Council were spellbound, leaning forward in their seats and hanging on every word that was spoken.

  “If I did not see it with my own eyes, I would no’ have believed it,” Breslin declared. “She ordered a group of them to attack from above.”

  Maelnar’s eyebrows shot up. “Ye say ye heard the female guur order the drones to attack from above?”

  “She shrieked, and half of them disappeared. We had no idea where they went,” Steve explained.

  “Where did they go, then?” one Council member asked, nervously twisting his beard around a finger.

  Getting into the moment, Steve paused for dramatic effect. Grinning, he eyed his captive audience. “Well, that’s just it. We didn’t know. Rhenyon was warning me that they were more than likely planning something, but the only thing I could see is that they pretty much left their queen unprotected. I was ready to throw a chaser at her when –”

  “Excuse me, please,” one Council member interrupted. “What is a ‘chaser’?”

  “Oh, sorry, it’s a ball of fire that will pursue the intended target, no matter if the target is fleeing, moving in different directions, etc. Hence, it is ‘chasing’ the target.”

  “Ye can produce these ‘chasers’ at will?”

  “Yeah. I’ve used a couple before when I was attacked back at castle R’Tal.”

  The dwarf stroked his beard. “Interesting.”

  Deciding that Steve shouldn’t have all the fun relaying their exploits, Rhenyon picked up the thread.

  “As sir Steve was preparing to throw his chaser,” the captain began, “the group of guur that had disappeared suddenly reappeared, falling down on us from above.”

  Several dwarves let out curses as they imagined the feared guur falling on them from the ceiling.

  “I believe someone yelled a warning. Might have been me,” the captain grinned, “but the next thing I know I was flying through the air and colliding with Breslin here. Together we were thrown to the floor, which was damn good timing, because at that moment there was an explosion in the cavern the likes of which I have never seen before.”

  Breslin had been nodding through Rhenyon’s narration. “I was trying to find a better angle in which I could throw my axe when a large, heavy human lands on me, knocking me flat.” Several dwarves laughed. “The explosion sounded and everything went quiet. Methinks I lost my hearing, it was so quiet in there, until this oaf,” he elbowed Rhenyon in his gut, with several more dwarves snickering; the captain grinned, “let out an exclamation of surprise.”

  “What did ye do, sir Steve?”

  “I wish I could tell you,” Steve answered, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s happened a couple of times to me. The situation has become so dire that I honestly don’t know what to do, and that’s when the explosions usually happen. Fried an arrow in mid-flight once, to save Sarah. And then it happened twice more, when we were attacked outside the castle.”

  Resuming the role of storyteller, Steve straightened, pretending to look surprised at the carnage his blast had created. “I looked around, startled to notice that I wasn’t blown on my ass like I usually am when that happens.”

  This time, the four human soldiers all snorted with amusement.

  “Bugs were still falling from the ceiling,” Steve continued, “but they were just charred remains. Apparently the blast had travelled well up into the tunnels in the ceiling, frying everything in its way. And, consequently, the blast broke apart the ceiling in the last cave.”

  “Ah! So that is what caused the cave-in!”

  “That’s right. Breslin saw it first, and was able to find the burnt, squished remains of the last female guur.” As he spoke the last three words, he met a different Council members eyes each time.

  At this, the cheering began again as dwarves he was familiar with, as well as those he wasn’t, congratulated them yet again on their spectacular victory.

  Sarah smiled. Her husband had always told her that he didn’t like to be the center of attention at any type of party. But watching the way he was smiling and joking with everyone present, she would have to argue the point. He was completely comfortable being in the spotlight, that’s for sure!

  Smiling, Steve turned to Sarah and held out his hand. She rose to take it, all the while beaming at her husband. Together, they turned to the dwarf keymaker.

  “Now. I would say we’ve upheld our end of the arrangement, don’t you think?”

  Smiling, Maelnar nodded.

  “How’s it going with our new key?”

  “I was wondering when ye were going to ask about that, lad.” Maelnar grinned up at the two tall humans. “It will be finished in about two days. The crystals need to be tuned. And I was going to ask the two of ye about that. I will need yer help.”

  “Sure. What do you need from us?”

  “I will need the two of ye to concentrate on something from yer homeworld so that I can tune the key in to it. It has to be a strong, vivid memory so that the crystals can detect it.”

  “Like the gate itself?” Sarah asked.

  “Aye, that would be perfect. When ye have a moment, come find me at my workshop so we can finish yer key.”

  Steve and Sarah shared a glance. “How about now?”

  ****

  “So what do we have to do?”

  “The two of ye sit there,” Maelnar instructed, indicating two wooden stools with worn, leather cushions. Taking their places, both humans waited as the dwarf withdrew a felt, drawstring pouch. Reaching in, he pulled out a sparkling crystal key, but this tim
e it was purple! A deep, rich amethyst embossed with several ancient symbols that weaved themselves together, resembling several Celtic patterns Sarah had seen before.

  “It’s purple!” Sarah was delighted. This was much better than the green key from before!

  “Why’s it purple?” Steve wanted to know. “Will it change color once it’s tuned to our world?”

  “The green crystal from the previous key was not ready for harvesting. The purple was in abundance, so I used that. I do hope that ye do not have a problem with the color, ‘cause that is what ye get, human.”

  Elbowing her husband aside, Sarah let out a shout. “Don’t you dare change the color! I love purple!”

  Grinning from ear to ear, Maelnar chuckled to himself. He had grown quite fond of these two.

  “Now,” the dwarf began, “I will need ye to focus on the gate on yer world. Picture it as vividly as ye can. Hmmm, Sarah, maybe ye should be the one to do this.”

  “Hardy har har,” Steve grumbled, but obligingly pulled his stool farther away so as not to disturb his them.

  “What would you like me to do?” she asked the dwarf craftsman.

  “Come sit next to me, lass.”

  Sarah pulled her stool over to Maelnar’s work table. Pulling out the purple crystal key, he laid it down on the surface and pulled out a complex set of tiny tools. Laying the instruments all about the table, he started making adjustments on several of them.

  “Now, I need ye to vividly picture something from yer world in yer head. Ye mentioned before ye might be able to visualize the portal gate itself. Think ye can do that, lass?”

  Sarah nodded, bringing up a mental image of the carving spanning the two massive doors back home in Idaho. The Kingdom of Idaho, she thought wryly. Sure enough, the image formed.

  “I have the gate pictured,” Sarah reported, eyes closed. “Quite clearly, actually. The portal is off. I mean, the doors to the room are closed, no portal.” In her mind’s eye she could see the intricate details on the gigantic double doors. There, as before, was the beautifully carved castle. Was her mind playing tricks on her? She could actually picture the green crystal key sticking out of the window/keyhole.

  Seeing her expression change, Steve stood. “What is it? You’re frowning. What’s wrong?”

  Keeping her eyes closed, she shook her head. “It’s nothing. I was just mentally picturing the door, and I can imagine that green key is still sticking out of the keyhole in the window. Remember that?”

  Forgetting that his wife’s eyes were closed, Steve nodded. “Rather hard to forget.”

  “Anyway, I can actually see it in the keyhole. Makes me think that I could teleport the crazy thing here.”

  Inexplicably, the infamous green key appeared in her hand. Sarah shrieked, dropping the key on the ground. It clinked several times before it came to a noisy stop, resting up against her foot.

  Steve had leapt to his feet yet again. “What is it? What’s the matter?” His gaze dropped to the floor where it landed on the key. “Is that what I think it is?”

  Tentatively, Sarah stooped down to pick it up. Holding the familiar key in her hand, she turned to stare at her husband, whose shocked expression mirrored her own.

  “It’s the key! What the hell! How did you get that thing here? What did you do??”

  Maelnar walked over to speechless human female and took the key from her. He hefted it in his hand, and then held it close to his face, studying it meticulously. His sharp gaze found Sarah’s. “This is the key I crafted for the Scribes! If ye could have teleported it here at any time, why the ruddy hell did ye have me craft another one?”

  “Like I knew I could do that!”

  Steve took the key from the dwarf. Holding the blasted thing in his hand, he turned to his amazed wife. “So we just risked our lives for nothing? We could have gotten this damn thing at any time?”

  Sarah shook her head, taking his hand. “No, I’m pretty sure we could not have. Until we learned how to use our jhoruns, I would never have been able to teleport this thing here. I had to be able to clearly see that key in my mind. Until I could picture what I wanted, I wouldn’t have been able to retrieve it. I had to learn how to do that.”

  “You know what this means, babe? We can go home!”

  “Not for another two days yer not,” Maelnar gruffly corrected. “Ye asked for this cursed key, and ye will get yer damn key. Then ye can go.”

  ****

  Rhenyon studied the green portal key, turning it over and over in his hand while Pheron and the others admired the new amethyst-colored one, admiring how the many faceted key created little spots of light everywhere.

  “If ye could get this key,” Pheron began, “then why did ye need –”

  Sarah held up a hand, cutting him off.

  “Don’t. Don’t ask. I didn’t know I could get it. Never dawned on me to even try.”

  Rhenyon looked up, eyeing Steve first, then Sarah.

  “This completes our mission. This is what we came to get, is it not?”

  Steve nodded, pointing to the purple key. “We came for that one, but without realizing it, we acquired our old key, which is this one.”

  “And both will take ye home?”

  Both nodded their heads.

  “Their majesties will be most pleased. We can begin our trek home tomorrow. We should be back in the castle in about three days.”

  “The trek to the castle?” Sarah sputtered. “Three days? I think you’re forgetting who you’re talking to, mister.”

  The captain bowed, giving Sarah his trademark sheepish smile. “I stand corrected, milady. With yer help, we will be back in the castle by tomorrow.”

  Maelnar emerged from within the council chambers, with the entire Council following closely behind.

  “Lads, lass, ye have done the Kla Guur clan a tremendous service. We cannot let ye leave without a proper celebration, as ye have given us much to commemorate. Tonight, we feast in yer honor!”

  Without waiting for a response, Maelnar turned and strode off, with the rest of the Council following behind like obedient puppies.

  “They sure do enjoy their celebrations, do they not?” Rhenyon chuckled. “What is one more? We have feasted to the death of the female guur, to the safety of the tunnels, and to the ancient pact of dwarves and humans. Have I missed any?”

  “I believe ye have missed the feast in honor of our bravery,” Pheron answered, chuckling. “That was feast number three, methinks.”

  “Aye, right. Forgot that one. My memory escapes me at times.”

  “From age or from ale?” Rhein asked, causing the captain to cough up half the ale he had just swallowed.

  “Ye have gone soft, sir,” Pheron said, slapping him on the back to help clear his lungs. “Imagine having to have help in defeating those guur. What kind of captain are ye, anyhow?”

  “Keep it up, lieutenant, and ye will find yerself mucking out Bredo’s moat before ye can even blink an eye.”

  Knowing full well that his captain would never bestow such a chore on him, Pheron grinned.

  ****

  The dwarves of the Kla Guur clan pulled out all the stops for their celebratory feast that night. The plaza in front of the council chambers had as many tables crammed together as would fit. Temporary hearths had been set up all throughout the city, providing additional light and warmth for those that needed it. Musicians filled the night air with gaily played ditties, encouraging those within hearing range to come dance a jig. The dwarves of the Council were decked out in their finest, displaying various ornamental robes, belts, gilded instruments, and the like.

  Steve and Sarah laughed, ate, and danced well into the night. Steve quickly lost count how many times he had recounted their adventures in the depths of the earth. After succumbing to an underling’s request to hear yet again how the female guur had been defeated, Steve departed, leaving Sarah sitting alongside Pheron. With a grin, the lieutenant leaned forward and asked Sarah a question. Smiling, she a
ccepted Pheron’s invitation for a dance, followed closely by invitations from Rhein and Kern. Keeping an eye on her husband, Sarah even managed to pull the reluctant captain out into the center of the square.

  “Not a good idea,” Rhenyon protested, staring down at his two left feet. “Ye are apt to get stepped on if ye persist. I am not much of a dancer, and I do not know this tune.”

  “Good. I don’t know it, either.”

  Rhenyon stared at her for a few moments.

  “But ye have been dancing now for nigh half an hour! How can ye do that if ye do not know the music?”

  Smiling, she took the captain’s hands. “Here we go. Eyes straight at me. Listen to the beat,” Sarah instructed, leading the hesitant soldier through some basic steps. “No, don’t look at your feet. Keep your eyes on me.”

  Finished with his latest bout of storytelling, Steve turned, looking for his wife. He finally spotted her dancing with someone who was clearly way out of his comfort zone. Rhenyon was shuffling along, doing his best to keep up with the fast tempo the song demanded. Suffering sympathetic pains, Steve winced as the captain went to move right, catching his partner unaware, and stepping solidly on her foot.

  “Ouch!”

  “Many apologies, milady.”

  “It’s okay, you’re learning.”

  “How did ye learn the steps so fast?”

  “It’s something I could always do. I watch and listen, and though my steps might not be exactly right, it’s close enough.”

  “Ye are an exquisite dancer, milady.”

  Unwilling to wait for the end of the song, Steve deftly cut in, sending a smiling Rhenyon back over to his comrades. Waiting in the wings for the prime opportunity, two of Maelnar’s five daughters approached the now famous soldier, asking politely if he’d honor them with a dance. Throwing his face into neutral, Rhenyon swallowed his surprise and graciously took the hand of the closest female dwarf. If not for the long, braided beard that was tucked into her belt, she might actually be fairly attractive, the captain mused.