“This is a conversation for warriors,” Ott said quietly. “You were not invited. For what cause do you darken my door?”
Bom stood tall and flashed a pleasant smile to his grandfather, “I have come seeking your permission to lead a small group on a diplomatic journey to Havenstahl, grandfather.”
“Diplomatic?” Ott spat. “Why on Ouloos would I allow a diplomatic mission to a city I intend to destroy. I have no use for men. I will take their lands and their resources. They will bow before me or die.”
“Why?” Bom’s tone quickly acquired a pleading quality. “Has the race of men ever slighted you or any of us? Our home is across the Great Sea. We have no need of these lands.”
Ott clenched his teeth together so tightly the muscles in his jaw looked as if they might rip right through his cheeks as he growled, “Careful, boy. I loved my son, your father, despite his weakness. Never will I forgive his failure, but I did love him. Even still, the words you speak are blasphemies against the great tiger. I will not stand for that. Bind your tongue, or the fishes of this vast bay will feast on your shredded carcass.”
Bom’s smile faded, “Please, grandfather, hear me out. Maomnosett Ahm, my uncle, was a mighty ruler, a titan among giants.”
“He was a titan among giants,” Ott interrupted, “until he grew fat and lazy being catered to by lowly dwarves. And never forget, he was killed by a man just like your weakling father. How could it come to this, two of my sons killed by men and my grandson shrinking away from his duty? If the great tiger had not set me on my path, I would be certain he had abandoned me completely.”
“I have never met the lad of the Lake, but by all accounts, he is a god among men. Your disappointment is misplaced. Ahm should never have been here in the first place, ruling over dwarves. Giants are free to do what they will. Men and dwarves should be the same. What gives us the right to impose our will and take…”
Ott had heard enough. In a blink, he was out of his throne and squeezing his grandson’s neck in his steely grip. He pulled the young giant close to him and growled in his ear, “You exalt the man who killed your uncle to the status of god? Would you call him the great dragon? Do you fear his flame, you coward? I will eat the flesh from his bones and extinguish his flame. Men and dwarves exist only to serve us. I will take everything from them. Stand in my way and be trampled under my feet with them.”
Ott squeezed harder. His massive hand fit easily around Bom’s fair neck. Blood began to trickle from small cuts his fingernails made in his palm as he tried to crush his grandson’s neck. The fear dancing about in Bom’s eyes as they bugged from their sockets only served to stoke Ott’s rage. He squeezed even tighter. Another member of his family would die. This one would not expire at the hands of men. This one would die for his love of them.
“Your father should have listened to me,” the furious giant growled in his grandson’s face. “He brought you before me on the day you were born. The pride in his eyes sickened me as I gazed on the pathetic thing he held in his arms. I told him to cast you off the highest mountaintop. If he were alive to witness this treachery, he would lament the day he failed to heed my advice about you.”
“Ott,” Chi-Ta called out from behind him, “he is your blood. Would you kill your own blood for the sake of rage? He is young. Counsel him. Teach him truth. Do not take his life for foolishness.”
Ott was stunned. Would there be no end to the treachery? His grip eased on Bom’s neck as he turned his head and flashed an angry stare at the trogmortem king. Keeping his eyes on Chi-Ta, he gave Bom’s neck one last squeeze before launching him into the wall. Perhaps the trogmortem king wanted to offer his neck in place of Bom’s. The raging giant took a mere two steps toward Chi Ta before noticing the shock on his face. It was not the shock itself which stopped him. Facing down death is enough to shock any manner of beast. It was the fact that Chi-Ta’s wide, terrified eyes were not fixed on him. They looked past him at something else.
When Ott turned to see what had so concerned the trogmortem king, shock found its way onto his face as well. The wall surrounding the doorway to the throne room had crumbled when Bom’s body slammed into it. That was expected. Ott knew his own strength. What surprised the self-proclaimed giant king was the fact that a small group of giants and trogmortem were standing outside the room assisting his grandson. Lito-Bi, Chi-Ta’s finest and most trusted warrior was among them.
“I am surrounded by traitors,” Ott growled.
“This war is over,” Lito-Bi spoke plainly, “at least it is for us.”
Before Ott could respond, Chi-Ta admonished his soldier, “Measure your words. You serve at my pleasure, and I am in the service of Ott of the house Maomnosett. Do not share in Bom’s treason.”
Ott did not wait for Lito-Bi to respond. His fists clenched tight and his roar rattled the walls as he charged toward the group of traitors. He wanted to feel Bom’s face crush beneath the weight of his fist. However, when he charged, Lito-Bi had shuffled the gasping giant behind him. Seeing the trogmortem traitor standing defiantly before him infuriated him even more, the hubris of this lowly soldier. No trogmortem stands before any giant. They bow and follow obediently, or they die. It appeared Lito-Bi had decided to end his time on Ouloos. Ott fired his right fist at the trogmortem warrior’s head.
Lito-Bi was spry, a well-trained killing machine. Ott knew this. However, he was not so blind with rage that he failed to see the trepidation painted across the warrior’s face. The trogmortem’s instincts were sharp. That face had ducked low long before Ott’s fist came close to it. Before the giant could follow the first shot with his left hand, lights flashed as pain rocked the bottom of his jaw. The blow slammed his mouth shut and sent a shockwave through his entire head. He barely had time to register that he had been hit with an uppercut when the lights flashed again. This time the pain radiated from his temple. Before he knew what had happened, Lito-Bi’s foot hammered into his chest knocking the wind out of him and depositing him on the ground. The room swam around him, tilting one way and then the other. He barely noticed Chi-Ta charge past him as he focused on keeping the contents of his gut from pouring out of his mouth.
By the time Ott regained his feet, Chi-Ta was standing just outside the broken wall of the throne room shouting at nothing. The traitors had apparently fled. The shouts pouring from Chi-Ta as he stomped and waved his arms wildly did not register to Ott. He did not need to hear the curses, nor the volume with which they tore through the salty air. The trogmortem king’s actions were enough to ensure Ott could still count on his loyalty. The only question that remained was whether they should give chase immediately to exact justice on the pack of traitors, or if they should wait to cut them down with the men and dwarves for which they had abandoned their cause. As much as Ott wanted to hunt them down and crush them all, he had no idea of the extent of any planning they may have done. The treachery was obviously deep. His grandson had an entire group of treasonous bastards at his back when he came calling. The possibility of a trap was undeniable.
“Calm yourself,” he called out to Chi-Ta as he rose to his feet. “They are obviously gone.”
Chi-Ta took a moment to compose himself before replying, “They are. They fled like cowards after Lito-Bi ambushed you. Give me leave to bring them to justice. I will take my best killers and hunt the traitors down.”
Ott inhaled deeply, giving his heart a chance to slow, and said, “Patience. They will pay for their treachery in time. This was not a random act. They planned this assault carefully. We will not fall into any traps they may have laid for us. We will plan. We will measure our response. And we will crush them all.”
Chapter 6
Making a Warrior
The trees glowed in the bright sunlight as they stretched toward a sky free from clouds. They looked more like the spires of an emerald castle than simple pines barely moved by the slightest approximation of a breeze. The clearing they surrounded had been growing steadily warmer as the sun slowly ga
ined height. It was not quite directly overhead when Perrin finally paused in her sword training with Glord and brushed back the few wisps of hair that had escaped her ponytail.
“I can barely lift my sword,” she remarked as she walked a slow circle and tried to get control of her breath. “Can we call it a day?”
“Aye, my queen,” Glord chuckled, “I’d been ready to quit an hour ago. None can say you ain’t taking this training seriously.”
Perrin pawed at her blouse. The thing was loose, light, and typically comfortable. The thick sheen of sweat covering her body made it less so. It stuck to her in spots. She pulled at those spots and fanned them. If only there were a breeze. Of course, a cool breeze would not help her legs at all. Leather trousers might be durable and built for the trail, but they certainly were not crafted with comfort in mind.
“How do you men wear these horrible trousers every day for all your days?” she asked as she bent at the waist and gently patted the inside of her right thigh. “These awful things have the insides of my thighs all chaffed, red, and sore. I ain’t never been much of a lady, but I’d trade these stiff, sweaty things for a loose dress in a blink.”
This time Glord laughed outright. “Aye, my queen,” he glanced around the clearing and continued, “Since none of them other blokes be around to hear this, I can tell you I’d be trading my trousers for a comfortable dress right now too.” After a brief pause, he added, “It may not seem like it now, but you’ll get used to that as the trail drags on. I won’t try tricking you into thinking you’ll ever call them comfortable, but they won’t be cutting up your legs so much.”
“Thank Coeptus for that,” she smiled. After a few more moments of pawing at her sweat-drenched clothes, she asked, “Glord?”
“Aye, my queen?” Glord asked.
The humor left her voice, “Why do you keep calling me your queen? I ain’t nobody’s queen anymore, probably won’t never be again.”
Glord scratched his head and looked up toward the bright sky. “I can’t see you no other way. I’d been a young lieutenant in Havenstahl’s army when you came to us, all fresh-faced and bright-eyed. Of course, you were no queen then. No, then you’d been a cherub, not much more than a babe with no father or mother to look after you. Well, Ymitoth, may the Lake forever bless his soul, he’d been my general and only days returned from training your husband, the lad of the Lake himself. He minced no words with us when he told us about you. He told us all about what them monsters done to your family and how fresh them wounds were. You can ask any of them men serving with me then, we all vowed to take you as our own. I never had no daughters, or sons, for that matter. Maybe I saw you as that. Of course, as a soldier, there ain’t no way I could give any child the kind of life Kendal and Haleen gave you. It’s a shame what happen to them.”
“Aye,” Perrin’s head dipped as she chewed her lower lip, “ain’t a day goes by without them two being in my thoughts. I’d been so young when my mama and papa were taken, but I knew them. They’d been good. But what Kendal and Haleen done for me, I have no words. They never let me want for nothing, treated me just the same as if I’d been their own.” Perrin’s cheeks blushed slightly over her smile as she continued, “I do remember all the gifts you would bring me when you would come to the pub to visit. Papa built me the biggest toy chest in all of Havenstahl to house all the baubles and dolls and such.” Her smile widened and she added, “Come to think of it, I might have been a bit spoiled by you and some of the other soldiers.”
Glord blushed a bit too, as he replied, “Aye, I saw many a hardened man melt when seeing your face all bright with excitement at a gift they’d given you. Ain’t a one of us would ever let you want for nothing.” He grew a bit more somber before adding, “When them monsters took Ymitoth from us, it was a hard day. Truth be told, it was one of my hardest. You became my queen on that day. On that day, I vowed to follow where you led and let no peril befall you so long as a breath remained in my body.”
“You are a good and noble man, Glord,” Perrin smiled. “Ain’t no man I’d trust more with my safety.”
“Thank you, my queen,” Glord returned the smile. “You can’t possibly know how much your kind words mean to this old soldier. I only pray I deserve the compliment.”
Perrin flopped down on the ground next to her horse sack and fished out a hunk of dried meat. She was only about three chews in before she chased it down with a big splash from her water skin. Sword training worked up a mighty appetite and an equally mighty thirst. Glord flopped down beside her and did the same. They both looked out into the trees as they ate.
Birds sang their songs and flitted from this tree to that and back again, as if trying to decide which spot was the best for belting out a melody. Meanwhile, furry critters scuttled about searching among the brush and dead leaves for the perfect morsel to chomp away on. A stag caught Perrin’s attention. Filtered sunshine glinted off the fallon’s rack as it scraped it against a tree to rub off the remaining velvet. The sheer serenity of it all nearly made her forget the horrors which had driven her to the trail in the first place. Of course, nothing ever could. The trail, her journey to find her lost son, precious Geillan, was all that mattered.
After swallowing down a mouthful of dried meat, Perrin broke the silence, “You know, this is my first real adventure. Been more than a few times I’ve forgotten my purpose and got all sucked up into it.”
“Aye,” Glord chuckled, “the call of the trail. It is something you can’t understand until you’ve been on it. Every time she calls, it is to satisfy some goal, some great need. You ain’t the first to be feeling that. It’s a kind of freedom.”
“How so?” Perrin asked.
“I ain’t what you’d call a wise man, but I know more than most about the trail. Just look at all that surrounds you, the trees, the air, the way the sun glints off everything and pulls out the colors in all their glory. Listen to the songs the birds sing. They never sound so sweet trapped between four walls. Once you have been out in it like we are now, that is when you can understand the call,” he paused as his gaze drifted deeper into the trees. “Now that you have been in it, surrounded by all this life, you’ll be feeling that call for the rest of your days.”
Perrin nodded, “You sound like a wise man to me. A couple weeks on the trail, and I can’t picture myself surrounded by no walls any longer.”
“And you sound like a proper adventurer,” Glord remarked. “Based on where the stars are sitting in the night sky, I think you’ll have once more what we have already seen before getting to that spot where the lad of the Lake crossed the Lost Forest.”
“Aye, Cialia taught me much in her odd way,” Perrin agreed. “It wasn’t like no lesson I’d ever learned before. She placed her hands over my eyes, and I saw everything. There are thousands and thousands of Dragons, all mighty, terrible, and beautiful to behold. I can’t wait to see that place with my own eyes.”
Glord failed to suppress a nervous chuckle, “You can probably count me and the men a bit less eager to look upon that sight.”
Perrin smirked, “Could it be the great and mighty Glord found something he fears?”
“Laugh all you want. For most of my life, Dragons were mighty and terrifying beasts that could burn all of Ouloos with their rage. Dragon’s fire will melt the flesh from your bones before burning them to dust,” Glord’s reply was barely more than a mumble. “The story your husband showed us may have proved them tales to be as false as Darg’s wooden teeth, but it didn’t erase them from our memory. I never met a Dragon. How could I know what will happen when I do?”
“You ain’t wrong about that,” Perrin agreed. “Maelich told me Dragons are love, honest, pure, and unconditional. I can’t trust that man in much else these days, but in that I do. Even if I didn’t, I need them Dragons to help me find my lost babe.”
“Aye, you do,” Glord agreed before adding, “and I can’t let you face no peril on your own. Scared as I might be, if them stories prove to be
less than true, I’ll protect you as best I can.”
“Of that I have no doubt,” Perrin smiled as she stood, stretched, and packed up her things for the short journey back to camp.
“Are you ready to get back to the trail?” Glord asked as he followed suit. “If we hit it hard until sunset, there is a small brook where we can water the horses and refill our water skins.”
Perrin nodded her response before taking one last longing look into the peacefulness surrounding her. She had no idea how long it would be until she could feel as carefree as the birds singing from the branches of tall pines. Hopefully, when that day finally came, and her precious Geillan was back in her arms, he would still be small enough to sit in her lap and look out at a peaceful forest with her.
Chapter 7
The Empty Throne
Bindaar stood alone in the courtyard of the palace at Alhouim. The place seemed a vast and lonely desert to the dwarf. Of course, that had probably been the intent when Ahm ordered the dwarves of Alhouim to tear down their castle and build his palace over its ruins. Everything about the place seemed geared to make dwarves feel even smaller. Never mind that giants logically require larger structures and wider expanses due to their massive dimensions. The fact mattered little to Bindaar. Everything that bastard, Ahm, had ever done was probably intended to make the dwarves feel miniscule and worthless.
Much had changed since the lad of the Lake strolled into that courtyard to relieve a giant of his massive, stupid head and free a city of subjugated dwarves, but even more had not. The massive thrones which sat atop the steps leading up into the palace and were big enough to hold Ahm and his wife’s giant rumps had been replaced with seats of more modest dimensions for Doentaat and his wife Gleeanna, and additional floors had been added within the palace itself. No dwarf alive had any need for a twenty-five-foot ceiling. However, the very spot where Bindaar stood looking up at his missing friend’s throne was the exact same spot he stood while Ahm passed judgement on him for shirking his responsibility in the mines and tromping off to the hillside to smoke a bit of fairy weed. That was so long ago.
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