by Damon Alan
Two rafts were loaded on the shore, packed with goods and places for the dwarves to sit and stay dry. Ropes, woven from mushwood fibers, were prepared and waiting for the pack lizards to haul the rafts further downstream. They had wood for camping fires, they even had a bit more food because Ekesstu had been generous. This river was indeed fertile, as was the oasis they were about to leave.
He and his squad were packing up their final items when to their surprise they were joined at the oasis. How, exactly, Irsu didn’t know. He never saw them arrive.
Deep gnomes.
Irsu had met the deep gnomes several times, either as part of traveling trade caravans or mercenary guards on the caravans of others. The gnomes were renowned for their magical prowess and for their mechanical ability. What they lacked in strength and stature they often made up in guile and wits.
“Those rafts contain the property of Her Royal Highness, Ignesha of Arassticannik.” The apparent leader of the gnomes spoke Undertrade, the language often used by different races to conduct business outside of their own territory.
Irsu wasn’t wearing his armor, and his axe was a good ten seconds away leaning on a rock. He glanced at it, wondering if he’d be to it before the shortbows of the deepgnomes filled him with arrows.
“No need for that, at least not yet,” the leader said, seeming to understand Irsu’s unspoken question. “My name is Istarabbusnar, I am a Patroller.”
He said that as if it should bear some significance to Irsu.
“I am a Patroller,” Istarabbusnar said again.
“I am Irsu Cragstone, of Iron Mountain Hold,” Irsu replied, choosing to ignore the last sentence the gnome said. “We are investigating an outbreak of sickness in a fellow dwarven clan. We know not what clan, or where they came from, but they attacked our hold, then disappeared into the deep ways.”
“I see,” Istarabbusnar said as if that was impacting his thought processes somehow. “And have you found anything out?”
“Not yet, we were attacked by a superior force on the bridge that crosses this ravine a few days up river.”
“I know of the place,” the gnome said. “It is a natural choke point on your underways.”
“My underways,” Irsu commented. “How do you get around if not by something like the deep roads?”
“Arassticannik is self-sufficient,” Istarabbusnar said. “We do not need to leave our territory. We have everything we need as long as poachers are kept from ransacking our lands.”
“We didn’t know we were on your lands,” Irsu replied. “You have no territorial markers.”
“Did you think a spot like this just happened naturally?”
“I did,” Irsu responded. “I’ve seen such spots before.”
The gnome looked contemplative, and then a little less judgmental. “Maybe you have. I’ve never been out of my homeland.”
“I can see that it bothers you we are here, on this amazing oasis. We will leave and be on our way,” Irsu told him. “No need to overstay our welcome.”
The gnomes laughed, which revealed the location of a few Irsu hadn’t previously seen. They had the numbers. It would be best to resolve this without conflict if possible. He hoped the soldiers traveling with him were a lot more ready for combat than he was, just in case.
“You take from our land and plan to walk away without payment?” Istarabbusnar asked. The gnomes behind their leader readied themselves to fight, some rested hands on small weapons in sheaths, some tightened their grip on their bows.
“We didn’t take anything made by your hands,” Irsu replied, curious and a bit alarmed. “Just rabbits, a few trees, and some fish.”
“The fish do not matter,” was the reply. “The river is not our territory. The oasis, however, is the property of our queen, so there must be an accounting for the trees and meat animals you took.”
Coragg whispered in Irsu’s ear. “We have lots of fish, the river is laden. We can get more downstream. Perhaps a trade?”
“You say the river is not your territory?” Irsu asked.
“Correct, We aren’t asking you to pay for the fish for that reason.”
“We offer the fish to you as payment. We have a full dwarf-weight, dried and soaked in their own fat.”
The gnome scratched at his goatee. “I’d have to see it, but if it’s within the realm of the reasonable, I’ll allow the trade.”
“Coragg, take the fish off the rafts. We’ll be a little lighter in the water, which is not a bad thing.”
Coragg bellowed, and soon four dwarves sat two mushwood crates of fish on the sand near Irsu.
“Fish,” Irsu offered. “In return for your queen’s hospitality. Also word to our clan that trade with the Deep Gnomes of Arassticannik are fair and honorable traders.”
Istarabbusnar inspected the crates, then turned toward his soldiers. “I, Istarabbusnar, patroller of Arassticannik, decree these dwarves of Iron Mountain Hold to be free of debt to her majesty, Ignesha.”
The gnomes cheered, and instantly the tension fell away. The little people grabbed bundles of dried fish out of the crates until empty crates were left.
“I thank you, Istarabbusnar, for coming to an understanding.” Irsu looked at the back wall of the oasis. “How did you get here without us knowing?”
The gnome laughed. “I can’t tell you how many would like to know that answer. Both enemy and friend.”
Irsu nodded. He understood military and state secrets.
“I hope to see you again, Irsu of Iron Mountain Hold. You are a fair trader, and did not bring insult to us.”
That was all they wanted, Irsu noted. Respect for their territory and their queen. Fair enough. “I hope we do, Istarabbusnar. Such a fair trader is a worthy find.”
“Help them off,” the gnomish Patroller ordered his soldiers.
A few scant minutes later the pack lizards were pulling the rafts into the center of the river. The gnomes watched from shore.
“Istarabbusnar, what is a Patroller?” Irsu yelled back to the gnomes over the sound of water.
“You would call me an Exactor, if I know anything about the dwarven equivalent,” the gnome shouted back.
An judge and executor of justice.
“Well,” Coragg said to Irsu. “At least he was a fair Exactor. Otherwise we’d be leaving here in our birthday suits.”
“Or worse,” Irsu corrected.
Chapter 28 - The Frailty of Men
July 23, 1940
They planned to walk along the shore once they returned to the north coast. Fortunately, Nelson and Gunter were both good navigators. They walked straight on toward Binic, just south of Étables-sur-Mer. They’d resupplied at the supply depot, knowing that whatever they took had to get them the nearly five hundred miles to Calais.
Nelson and his few survivors saw deaders six times in three days. As they neared the town of Binic they threw up a hasty camp in a copse of trees that would help them hide their cooking fire.
As they dug the pit for the fire, Billy walked into the area and grabbed Nelson’s arm. He pointed toward the east, tugging at Nelson to follow him.
“Sure, Billy. Show me what it is.”
He walked to the edge of the trees, and Billy pointed east once more. In the distance a different camp stood, with white tents and banners. A fire danced in the center of the camp, and Nelson saw men gathered around it.
Why weren’t these men hiding from the deaders?
Something in his stomach told him to be careful, that people not hiding from the enemy probably were the enemy.
He nodded at Billy and gestured back toward their hidden camp.
“We have a problem,” he said as he approached Gunter. “Another camp about a mile east.”
“Good,” Gunter replied. “We need more soldiers.”
“I don’t think it’s our side,” Nelson replied. “They ain’t hiding like we are.”
“Oh.”
Nelson knelt over the small pit fire and warmed his han
ds for a minute. The night was cooler than he’d hoped for since they couldn’t create much warmth.
He stood up, having decided a plan for the moment. He was tired of reacting, it was time to get some information. “Corporal Wilcox, you’re with me. Bring your field glasses, we’ll do some spyin’.”
Wilcox grabbed his field glasses and his M1 Garand. At least the round from that rifle had a good punch. Nelson grabbed his own rifle, and they headed into the fields between them and their target.
“Why would anyone make themselves visible like that?” Wilcox asked.
“They ain’t afraid,” Nelson whispered back. “Either they are the cause of the deaders, or they have protection that works.”
They worked their way to a few hundred yards from the camp. By this time, even without the field glasses, Nelson could see the men in the camp weren’t men at all. They were the same skinny SOBs that he saw the day the enemy smashed the wall. Sure enough, they had horses hobbled on the other side of their camp. If they were there the day the wall fell, that indicated they were enemies in Nelson’s mind.
Even if they didn’t take part in the slaughter of Americans, they didn’t stop it.
“What do we do?” Wilcox asked in a whisper.
“We watch, then we go back to report what we see. Then we figure out how we give these fellas a wide berth when we depart this place.”
They scanned the camp for some time. The males of the skinny people were wearing armor that looked more like art than anything functional. There was a female among them, she was discussing something with the others, the center of their attention. For a brief moment Nelson considered sinking a bullet into her skull, but she stood up and looked in his direction.
It felt like she was reading his soul, but there was no way she could see him.
“She sees us,” Nelson said.
“Nah,” Wilcox replied. “She’s just thinking, looking into the darkness.”
“I don’t think that’s it…”
She stared toward them for nearly a minute before she tossed something on the fire. The campfire turned from an ordinary flame into a whirling column of purple inferno twenty feet high. Purple light illuminated Wilcox’s face even at this distance.
“Get lower if you can, boy,” Nelson told him.
They both did their best to merge with the ground, on a temporary basis, trying to avoid a more permanent association.
A figure appeared in the purple column. A figure like the ones at the camp, but made of fire and eighteen feet tall.
“I am Trisari,” it said, and Nelson understood the words perfectly. “The elimination of the threat is complete?” The words even had a Kentucky twang to them.
He couldn’t hear the responses. But the character from within the fire sounded like he was speaking in Nelson’s ear.
“There will be survivors, I’m certain,” Trisari said. “Hagirr wishes them taken alive if at all possible. I will add to this Hagirr’s orders. None of you are to risk your lives in the process of gathering in the stragglers. Let the dead do your work. You sweep up the remnants once they’re all in a pile.”
A pause as the female spoke.
Then the Trisari character again, “I don’t know why these few remnants matter, but Hagirr says they do. Hagirr gives us what we want, in return we give him what he wants.”
Pause.
“Because I said so. You’re a sorceress of the court. If you can’t complete your orders as given, let me know. I will banish you myself.”
The female’s gesturing increased dramatically.
“I will inform Hagirr of your loyalty. Do as you are bade. Do not fail. Your family is counting on your success.”
The figure faded and the fire dropped suddenly back to the ring of rocks that contained it, returning to a normal orange and yellow.
“We’ve seen enough,” Nelson said. “Let’s go.”
They made their way back to their camp, in the dark, moving slowly. The overcast skies would prevent them from being easily seen by mortals, assuming the skinny creatures saw like humans. But Nelson had no idea how the dead saw the world, or even if sight was involved. Maybe the dead smelled them out. On top of that, he wasn’t nearly as sure as Wilcox that they hadn’t already been seen. Something could be stalking them right now.
“They’re not human,” he told the three men waiting for them in camp when they arrived. “We heard part of their plan, and strangely, understood the words. Demonic magic, I’m sure. They have a mission to bring us and any other stragglers in alive. They control the deaders, and aim to use them to get us.”
“They control the dead?” McKinney said. “Does that mean they’re in league with Satan?”
“Ask your preacher when you see him,” Nelson said. “All I know for sure is that Wilcox and I stared into the face of evil, and it spoke from the fire.” He described that scene to them.
“God speaks from fire,” Connors said. “Maybe we should do as the fire said.”
“Son, I’ll shoot you myself,” Nelson spat out. “You need to quit talking crazy or don’t plan on staying with us anymore.”
He looked at the other three men. “We need to get some rest. One on watch.”
They lay down and when Nelson opened his eyes again it was early light.
McKinney was laying on the ground, splayed out. Nelson roused him and McKinney groaned as he sat up. “Something hit me.” He reached for the back of his head.
“Connors is gone,” Gunter said.
Chapter 29 - The Temptation of Men
Two days after their encounter with Hagirr, Harry woke to Cylethe next to him. While he’d been faithful to his wife, Cylethe was making it more and more clear that she didn’t want him to be. And the last few days she’d been attached at his hip.
It was time to ask why, it felt like something more was going on than her physical attraction to him.
They were off together getting water from a stream that wasn’t completely frozen. The water steamed in the air, and Cylethe explained that the heat came from underground. The dek often watered their animals and drank from this stream during their journey to and from the winter grounds.
Now was as good of a time as any to ask. “Why are you with me every moment since the incident with Hagirr?”
“Have I been?” she replied.
“You know you have. You’ve also been uncharacteristically quiet.”
She sank down to a squatting position, looking into the water of the creek. Without looking up, she answered his question. “Protecting Miller, trying to keep him from Hagirr… it might well be what gets me killed.”
“By Hagirr?”
“Who else?”
He nodded. Indeed. Who else could destroy Cylethe? From what he’d seen of her, his entire squad wasn’t enough. With rifles. And not including the drakon.
Regardless, while he was fairly certain she wanted more from him, they remained friends. He would do what he could for her. “How can I help? You have taken us in your care, now let me do the same.”
“We need to go someplace I’m loathe to go, where Hagirr can’t track Miller’s… enthusiasm for magic.”
He laughed. “We’ll go where you want. I’ve just been pretending to be in charge.”
She flipped snow at him. “Don’t be crazy. Your men would follow you into death. You’re in charge, Harry. I’m even listening to you these days. You don’t know how rare that is. But there is a reason that sword likes you.”
“Because it hasn’t seen a human in ten thousand years.” He sat on a rock at the edge of the stream, free of snow by the heat of the water. The water steamed in the air. “Tell me what we need to do. I don’t want Hagirr to find us, and I will do what it takes to keep you safe.”
She batted tattooed eyelids at him. “Awww, you care Harry?”
“Cylethe, behave.”
She shrugged. “We need to go underground. The Aldikki mountains are filled with underground dwarven holds, both living and dead. There
are the underways, the dwarves built them for trade so they wouldn’t have to come to the surface if they didn’t want to. There are gnomes, orcs, goblins, gnolls and flinds, and elves down there.”
“Underground? Are you sure about that?” It sounded silly, like a fantasy a boy might have playing with his friends.
“Harry, there are oceans down there. Rivers, and caverns so large they have mountain chains of their own. The deeper you go, the more diverse the terrain. There are free cities and kingdoms. It is an amazing place, although I’ve seen very little of it with my own eyes.”
“How do you know it’s real?”
“Grandmother told me.”
That was good enough for Harry. It was real, although maybe exaggerated a bit. “How do we get there?”
“There is an abandoned dwarven hold a day from here, off the path, up through a pass above us. We can get there. The hold was conquered and sacked thousands of years ago, but it is an avenue to the below that we can get to quickly.”
“Then why do you seem worried?”
“It will be filled with creatures, some harmless, some dark and terrifying. My drakon will not be with us.”
“I always found you more terrifying than your drakon,” Harry told her, grinning.
“You’ve seen nothing. I never ask him to deal with something if I can do it alone.”
“Fair enough. I assume that’s your policy for everyone.”
“Not for you, Harry,” she said. “Like it or not, you’re my choice for konsikt gai. Or konfrelt gai if I can convince you.”
Konsikt gai would make him her pre-marriage playtoy. “Konfrelt?” he asked.
“Promised.”
“Oh, no. I’m married,” Harry replied. “I told you—”
“The heart wants what it wants, Harry.” She looked sideways at him, uncharacteristically shy. “You will see. And I wouldn’t feel this way if there wasn’t something in you that felt the same. We dek are emotionally sensitive creatures.”
“Nonsense,” Harry replied, a bit addled in his thoughts. “I am married.”
