Hinterland Fortress

by Ron Smorynski

  Conquest

  of the Evermire

  Book 1

  The HinterLand Fortress

  By Ron Smorynski

  “Conquest of the Evermire” Episodic Series

  Text Copyright 2019

  Edited by Tammi Smorynski

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the author, unless you are reviewing and/or promoting it.

  This is a work of fiction. It is a work of fantasy.

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  1. Entering the Evermire...

  Rhyal was sitting in a wagon. She wriggled her nose. The stench awoke her from her meditation. She opened her eyes to see Ender snoring away. She sensed and knew where she was now. She peered out the canvas covering to see the dark mountains of Grund Moor. It would be the last known feature she'd see as they passed through to the Evermire swamplands.

  The Grund Moor mountains rose steadily up into the mist. On the western side, outside the Evermire, they were granite, sharp grays and blues, rising up to great foreboding peaks. The mountain range ran north to the vast grassland spread of the Umber Wilds and south to the Coast of the Dark Seas. And on the eastern side of the Grund Moor, facing in to the Evemire, they looked like vast shadowy walls, dark and misty. They disappeared up into the pale misty skies.

  Even with her noble elven eyes, where the night and stars were as clear as day, the mist that rose from the vast tract of land known as the Evermire clouded her vision. She realized, as she bobbed along in the wagon, that the land was just as gray and moribund as the dark misty sky.

  The land before her narrowed to a winding road amongst the mire. It was raised, like an earthen snake, above the land. This place was filled with giant puddles and spidery water ways. Littered throughout were plots and tufts of plant life struggling to claw their way up to what little sunlight that came through. That light was shrouded and bland, breaking up and giving the realm a constant aura of a dimly lit room. She surmised this was how it was day or night. It was the Evermire.

  The wagon suddenly stopped. The dwarf driver shifted, sounding as heavy and gritty as ever. He clambered down, lifting the canvas, and stepped into the wagon from the driver side.

  "Hullo my lithe elven passenger!" he bellowed. "Can you wake up your slave boy!?"

  "He's not my slave," Rhyal replied, her young voice trembled in defiance.

  "Raised by elves, was he?" Jurgeon the dwarf trader added. "By your family?"

  "He was adopted after losing his family to orcs," Rhyal remarked. She tugged Ender who was already awake and peering at Jurgeon.

  "Oh, sad tale indeed."

  "Are we here then, my master?" Ender said, winking at Rhyal. She glared back.

  Jurgeon nodded glumly. "We've just arrived through the vast vale between the world you know from Telehistine and beyond to the mighty vast wretched lands of the Evermire. You say you can fight. As such, I prefer my guards to be alert and armed!"

  Ender stretched and yawned. He looked at his adopted older sister, then pulled the canvas away to see the vast dark lands before them. "The Evermire! The greatest swamp ever! The home away from home!"

  "And the greatest legends and myths, avoided by all but the most intrepid," Rhyal said with a smirk.

  "The call to heroics!" Jurgeon said, hearing their claims as he climbed back up to his seat. He whipped the two thick-boned oxen along. "'Tis not the place heroes go! Not the Evermire!"

  Rhyal easily got up and sat atop the small bench where Jurgeon sat. He was a thick rotund dwarf. He wore work leathers and drab trousers. He was obviously not much of a fighter, but still bore a broad knife as a weapon. It may look like a hardy weapon but Rhyal knew any able bodied fighter such as Ender could bypass its hefty blade.

  "Why are you alone dwarf?" Rhyal asked. "Dwarves don't travel alone."

  "Are you a criminal then?" Ender asked calmly, putting on his belts and boots, rolling about on the crates and barrels in the back of the wagon.

  "Elves don't travel alone either," he said, eyeing her. "And not with manfolk."

  Rhyal sat more solid in the seat.

  "And what's with the reds and yellows, you some sort of flame caster?"

  "I am!" Rhyal said. She flicked and a small flame appeared on her finger.

  "Thought so!" Jurgeon suddenly pulled out a thick squat pipe. He adroitly packed it with smokeleaf as he held the reins to the oxen around his thick set forearms. "Great thing about the Evermire, one’s smokeleaf won't dry out!" He smiled as he motioned for her to bring her finger to his pipe. He got it going quite well.

  Rhyal flicked the flame out.

  "So, a lonely elf wizard and a man boy, your slave, running away, are we? For the Evermire is the best place to go, if you're running away from someone, especially someone of riches and import, someone who prefers the luxuries of Telehistine or the elven realm on the west coast!"

  "Not even close!" Rhyal sighed.

  "We seek to help others!" Ender said, in tight leathers, brandishing his short blades and bow with a flourish.

  Jurgeon tried hard to twist around with his smoky pipe and thick taught reins to see Ender. "Hmm... a thief, are we? Perfect for the mucky moors all around you!" He shared a goofy smile with Rhyal.

  "Not a thief!" Ender said, leaping from the wagon. He hurried along, even at a fast walk, was faster than the lumbering oxen. He was anxious to peer at, smell, and read the foul land.

  "Ooohhh...." Jurgeon looked odd at Ender who was darting about along the road and muddy puddles.

  "At home, he was never comfortable with the elves, even though we raised him as best we could. Our families were noble. We had him do... lesser chores. His true love was the one place we elves preferred not go."

  "Lemme guess!" Jurgeon easily puffed with a knowing glum look. "A swamp!"

  Rhyal smiled as Ender seemed so delighted hopping about, examining closely the muddy road, the trail of wagon tracks, and the land around.

  "One elf -- a half-elf," Rhyal recalled.

  "Of course, they're always half..." Jurgeon interjected quickly.

  "He resided there on the edge of our realm, and taught young Ender much lore about the marshlands," Rhyal continued, bobbing slowly with the lumbering oxen.

  "And you my dear elf friend, what is your sad story, if I may pry on this long slow journey to Hinterland?"

  Rhyal took a while to respond, thinking outwardly of what to say as she looked from dwarf to Ender. Jurgeon was patient as he puffed his pipe. There was plenty of muddy, misty road ahead before they would arrive at their destination.

  "My family is of noble birth," she finally began.

  Ender suddenly leapt up, holding onto the side of the wagon. "Goblins," he declared.

  Jurgeon and Rhyal looked at him.

  "Goblins from the Grund Moor," Ender looked back from whence they came, still able to see the vast dark outlines of the mountain range.

  "Coming into the Evermire?" Jurgeon responded.

  "Why not?" Ender asked.

  "Well, why not indeed, now that more of us Westerners are coming in. Suppose they got wind of us carting in supplies and trade!" Jurgeon said. "My last trip, the land felt dead and safe, not like any life was here. Figured youngsters like you was just to keep me company!"

  "Are they gone?" Rhyal asked.

  "I think they went off the trail here," Ender said, pointing to tracks that led off into the misty mire. Though the land was filled with dark water, there were plenty of mounds and dry patches leadin
g out from the ancient road.

  "Off the trail here?" Jurgeon repeated.

  Ender looked at a large paw print, pointing it out to the others. They saw as water slowly filled the spots.

  "Ooh... how close?" Jurgeon asked softly.

  "Probably watching us now," Ender said, looking out in the mist. "And they have a wolf. A rider on a wolf. They hide well out there."

  "Will they attack?" Rhyal shifted in her seat,

  "When it gets darker," Ender said. He looked at the gray shrouded land. "Will it get darker?"

  "It's still day," Rhyal answered.

  "Hard to tell in the Evermire. What light that can get through, gets trapped in this misty dread," Jurgeon spat, shifting to waken up his old stiff body.

  "How far to the fortress?" Rhyal asked.

  "Three days with my slow oxen. It isn't far into the swamp. The Duke wanted something close to the border, to be able to fortify and supply easily."

  "Can you drop one of the barrels? Leave it and we go?" Rhyal asked.

  Ender gave her a disappointed look.

  "What? And why did I hire you then?" Jurgeon asked.

  "Keep you company," Rhyal replied.

  "Protect my goods!" Jurgeon responded.

  "We were bound to fight some time sister," Ender said, dropping from the wagon and crouching to sense the land around him.

  Rhyal tapped Jurgeon's shoulder. "Keep going, slow and steady."

  "Alright captain!" Jurgeon said with a gruff smile.

  Rhyal got up from her seat, hopped into the wagon and easily walked through, picking up her quarterstaff and dropping out the back side. Ender was still kneeling, peering off into the mist.

  She came up to him. He stood up, not as tall as her tall elven figure but not short either.

  She wore soft leathers and elven threads the hue of fire and warmth. Already the Evermire, even on a noble elf, began to dirty and tarnish her noble attire.

  "They are following us. They know this road. Once we camp, they will attack," Ender said. "Let us kill some goblins!"

  "We shall await them there!"

  Rhyal sat in front of the fire meditating. Jurgeon snored loudly next to her. The wagon blocked much of their view westward, giving the goblins ample cover to sneak up on them in the darker shades of night. It was still a misty moribund gray, only slightly darker, as the shadows of night seeped closer. Instead of seeing rot and filth for miles out, the gray shadows shortened that vision to a few hundred paces.

  Even in the dark of night, the light seemed trapped, bouncing around and giving off a hue of a shadow world. That was the Evermire.

  A lanky goblin sat atop a wolf. He kept it back, and would only unleash it if necessary. He waited till the other goblins quickly killed the few there. Better to risk his own goblin-ilk than his precious wolf mount he surmised.

  Several goblins scampered quickly to the wagon. They were the size of small children, but had the gait of feisty strong monkeys. Four crept along, two on each side, heading around the wagon. Two had to clear the oxen who only snorted when the small creatures approached. They hesitated but saw the oxen's disinterest.

  One sniffed the oxen, knowing these were going to make a grand meal. They quickly scampered under the oxen and came out the other side.

  A sword immediately pierced one, dropping it. The other still eyeing the oxen didn't even react as it was struck down. The other two came out the back end of the wagon, only to get blasted by a sudden flash of fire. One dropped immediately with a scalding burnt head. The other reeled in shock, burned but not dead. It screeched in pain as it leapt into the muddy waters. It did not know how to swim.

  There were half a dozen goblins around the goblin rider on the wolf. "That's the signal!" he snapped, motioning them all on.

  The goblins hurried along. They ran along the driest of the muddy road and through the mist, excited for a successful raid. A bolt of fire suddenly blasted on one and it lit up in flame. It stood but a short while staring at the rest then toppled over dead. Several thought to take it back and eat it.

  Another fell with an arrow in it.

  "Gah! Under attack!"

  "Attack!"

  "Gah!"

  Two fled, two attacked.

  "Get goin dat way!" the wolf rider yelled. He charged forward. They were going to get something out of this long trek following a lone helpless wagon.

  The two fleeing turned to follow behind the wolf rider. The goblins charged at Ender as he leapt back into the wagon. They came about as another flash of fire blasted near them, but did not engulf either in flames.

  They saw an elf, a tall pointy eared elf, flailing fire at them. The goblin charged with its crude blade swinging wildly. The elf dodged as the goblin swung. He swore he hit her but the blade glanced off. Her skin shined something like glass upon her shape.

  The other tried climbing into the wagon, only to meet a blade, then another as it dropped dead.

  The wolf rider squawked in anger, gritting its sharp beady teeth. The wolf growled as it leapt over the dead goblins.

  The dwarf charged forward swinging his thick dagger. "Gragh!"

  The wolf bit upon Jurgeon's flailing arm. It bit into thick leather shaking the dwarf. But Jurgeon responded with a strike into the wolf. The goblin swung crazily at the dwarf but missed, being shook by its mount.

  Ender leapt from the wagon, striking down upon the wolf rider. He sliced it causing it to fall off the wolf. This made the wolf lose its courage and release its hold on Jurgeon.

  The remaining goblins suddenly seemed to disperse. Ender saw them splashing and rolling in the mucky mire. The wolf was wounded which probably enraged it. It bit at the dwarf again, ripping his clothes as Jurgeon struck out again. This time, the blade ended the wolf's life. "Haaggh!" the dwarf spat in tired anger.

  Ender took out his bow.

  Rhyal blasted the lone goblin rushing off along the road. It fell, engulfed in fiery flame.

  Ender aimed at the goblin trying to slosh its way through the muddy mire. He easily felled it.

  They looked about. All the goblins were dead and the Evermire's silent murky hum returned. There were just a few sad flames crackling goblin flesh along the road.

  Jurgeon yanked the wolf up, latching it to the wagon. "Just let me see if I can get this skin. Its not worth a lot, but here in the Evermire, oh yeah."

  Ender and Rhyal looked at each other. Both were frazzled, peering to see that neither was wounded. Ender shook out his nerves. Rhyal's eyes widened, realizing what they had just done.

  "Heroes," she lipped to him.

  He nodded.

  2. Entering the Hinterland Fortress

  They were still traveling slowly along the mound of road that rose above the swampland. It wasn't much higher but had a distinct lift to it. Ender walked along peering at the wagon wheel tracks, reading the trails. He noticed exposed spots of stone blocks throughout. This must have been a real road once, crafted by a great empire long ago.

  It was the next day, or so it seemed. The land was as gray and misty as ever, but they could see the road winding a good distance away, even if in a marshland mist.

  Rhyal sat with Jurgeon who looked stiff and achy. "Are you alright?"

  "Oh, haven't had to fight in many long years," Jurgeon replied, rubbing his arm.

  "You're leather greaves served you well," Rhyal noticed.

  He looked at his leather greaves. "Good dwarven bands. Made for smithing. Then again, all of our bands are made for smithing," he said, giving her a curled brow.

  She nodded with a faint smile.

  "Orcs!" Ender suddenly hollered, following a track of muddy prints that led off the road and into the mire.

  Jurgeon stopped. "Orcs? Oh stone! Lot tougher than rascally goblins."

  "I don't understand. It seems like there are grave threats on this road. Why hire only us two? You claimed yourself, we are novices?" Rhyal asked, standing up to peer after Ender.

  "There weren’t grave thre
ats before!" Jurgeon retorted, looking to and fro while thinking. "And you are free! The fortress was only situated a season ago. Ruined walls and a foundation was all it was before. The Duke and his loyal followers took it from some orcs who'd gone primal, leaderless. This land has been dead and isolated for ages."

  Both peered as Ender found a broken axe handle, lifting it and showing them.

  "It appears now that westerners are using this ancient road, evil has sensed it, and comes for the hunt," Jurgeon surmised. "I shudder to think it's any of my fellow traders trying to make a living, supplying this remote outpost."

  Ender returned. "They've been gone a day, out that way."

  "Many ruins out in the mire, many places for them to hide," Jurgeon sighed.

  "Is that their path, that trail that leads off into the mist?" Rhyal asked, peering in the distance.

  "Be easy to follow them to their hide out, find whatever they took," Ender added.

  "No, not this wagon," Jurgeon replied, slapping the oxen to keep going.

  Ender nodded. "A wagon and several riders were taken."

  "Killed," Jurgeon shuddered. "All their supplies taken. What a loss. Let us get to the Hinterland. There you can seek whomever the lost goods were intended for, get a bounty, and come back to hunt them down -- if you wish."

  Rhyal looked at Jurgeon. She knew he was an old dwarf and not good at fighting, especially another fight so soon. She sat back down as she knew their path was to the Hinterland Fortress. Ender nodded and walked alongside the wagon, peering off into the Evermire mist.

  It wasn't much of a fortress, or perhaps it was? Rhyal peered at it as her head bobbed, as she sat quietly next to Jurgeon. He was deep in some dwarven thought.

  Ender sat up from a nap, atop some sack of grains or oats. They peered at the ancient walls. They were vine ridden and foul looking, yet the stone looked strong. All wooden battlements were long rotted away, leaving many stains built up over the years. There were evident signs of orc fixtures atop the walls and exposed towers. Many had piled up vines and fetid bramble, giving them some sort of additional cover behind the ancient stone.