by RG Long
In a show of salute, Lote took one of her swords and lifted it into the air.
Everyone gathered with a weapon did the same, whether they were about to embark on a journey or stay in Beaton.
They stood in a circle for a moment, weapons lifted and crossed in the air.
"A Sword for the King!" Lote called.
"A Sword for the King!" came the reply from those who had traveled from Thoran.
Ealrin smiled as he put his own sword back and saw that the two halflings had taken part in the salute, though they understood little of what it meant to carry a sword for Thoran. They knew what it meant to fight for their homeland, however.
Something about that warmed Ealrin's heart.
"Come, Tory. We are off," Lote said after she had replaced her weapon.
Tory rolled his eyes and waved at the others as he followed Lote north.
"Bah. I've had my fill of elf ears," Gorplin said as he finally finished adjusting his straps. "Come on you lot! To the west!"
Gaflion, Jurgon, and Jurrin all began to walk west, following Wisym's instructions down to the road that led to a different gate.
Ealrin watched them both walk for a moment. Then he heard Gorplin cry out:
"Have fun with long-legs, Tory!" followed by a hearty laugh.
He probably would've kept laughing, too, had Lote's arrow not nicked his ear.
Ealrin heard him shouting for a good few moments.
"So," Bertrom said over the sound of dwarven curses. "How do we convince these people to lend us their army?"
Bertrom looked at Wisym, who looked at Ealrin.
He thought for moment. Wisym had spent two months trying to sway the minds that they needed to convince in less than three weeks. Both princes of Thoran were now also trying to influence those in power.
There was much work to be done, but there was also something bothering Ealrin.
"The very first thing I want to do," he said as he turned back into the mansion to retrieve his sword. "Is to take a walk."
He looked back just in time to see their confused faces. No matter.
There was something he needed to see.
Or rather, someone.
29: Marching West
"My father used to tell me stories of the famed halls of the dwarves of the West," Gorplin said on the second day of their journey. For only one of their number having longer legs than those of a child, they were making good time.
Perhaps it was because Gorplin had a willing audience to listen to his tales of dwarf history. Gaflion, at the very least, didn't seem to mind the stories.
Jurgon and Jurrin were both enthralled.
"You mean to say, sir, that the entire mountain is one large city?"
Gorplin let out a boisterous laugh. He hadn't felt this good in weeks.
"Bah. Not just a city! The whole country! The mountain range is home to thousands of dwarves. Maybe tens of thousands! It's the largest settlement of my race on the continent. Maybe even on the whole planet!"
Jurrin looked at Gorplin, wide-eyed.
"You mean there's more to the world than even this?" He asked.
"You need to see more of the world," Gorplin said as he slapped the halfling on the back.
"There are whole other continents on Gilia! Other lands for us to explore! Other mountains to mine! Cities of men, dwarves, elves, and even other places maybe yet undiscovered."
Gorplin was quite enjoying putting ideas of other places into the minds of the halflings. Those poor souls had never wandered beyond their forest. There was a whole world to explore!
There was only one problem.
"Have you been to those places, sir?" Jurrin asked, his voice still filled with awe.
"Yes, little Master," Gaflion added. "I was wondering the same thing myself."
Gorplin hesitated and made a few grunts and huffs.
"Bah," he said after a moment. "I haven't been to them yet!" He admitted.
"But you can bet I will!"
The journey so far hadn't convinced him that he needed to settle down. Just the opposite. He had been bit by a ravenous need to explore.
He was plagued with wanderlust.
They continued to march for the rest of the day. Gorplin was still telling grand stories of places he had never seen but intended to visit one day: Irradan, The Holy Empire, Redact, and other far off, distant lands.
He was so wrapped up in where he could go, that he wasn't paying any attention to where he was.
"Master Gorplin," Gaflion said, stopping him with a hand on his shoulder. "Be mindful of the bridge."
Gorplin looked up at Gaflion, confused. The old man nodded in front of them.
It was then that Gorplin saw the great chasm that sprawled out before them. A two hundred feet sheer cliff was two steps in front of him.
He backed away quickly.
"Bah," he said as a cool sweat swept over him.
Gorplin was no friend of heights.
Jurgon let out a low whistle, which echoed down throughout the chasm. A small river ran through the bottom of it. In the failing light of the day, it was becoming harder by the moment to see what lay at the end of the cliff.
"An ancient river bed," Gaflion said as he edged closer to the cliff face, peering over. Just barely discernible was the flow of water below. Though it may have once been a mighty river, its days of glorious rushing were over.
Just watching him do it gave Gorplin the shivers.
"Careful not to fall!" he said, a little too loudly to convince anyone he was being particularly brave.
Gaflion turned and gave him a small smile. He pointed with his left hand.
"Care to lead us, Master Gorplin?"
Following the direction he had indicated, Gorplin saw a narrow, tall, ancient, and surely unsafe bridge that spanned the gap.
Its stone pillars disappeared into darkness.
"I'd rather shave," Gorplin said under his breath, knowing no elves were around to hear his mutters.
"Perhaps we ought to look for a different way across?" he ventured, looking to his left and right. He immediately knew it was hopeless. The chasm stretched for miles in either direction.
"I don't think we can, sir" Jurrin said.
Gorplin knew it was hopeless. He gulped loudly and made for the bridge.
The old bridge was well crafted. Gorplin might have even said it was of dwarven origin, had he the mind to examine the structure.
Once he was walking over it, however, the only thing on his mind was getting to the other side of the chasm before the suns dipped below the horizon.
It would take nearly an hour to walk the bridge from one end to the other. But Gorplin wasn't going to be breaking a sweat due to his speed. He took every step gingerly.
"Master Gorplin, Gaflion said from the rear of the line they had formed to cross. "Might you quicken your pace a bit? We won't be across before midnight at this rate."
Jurgon added, "Nope."
The halflings didn't mind the trek at all. In fact, it seemed as if they were enjoying themselves a little too much in Gorplin's mind.
Jurrin was talking about a bridge he had helped construct outside of Big Tree and how the whole process had taken months. Currently, he was trying to figure out how long it would take someone to build this particular bridge.
"I imagine there was a whole host of workers, sir,"
If he was talking to Gorplin, he wasn't speaking to a captive audience. The dwarf only heard him in the back of his mind, as all of his senses were currently consumed in the task of crossing.
"Back home it was just me, Jurgon, and my cousin Forlo building a bridge that was no longer than the four of us laying down. Forlo was a bit of an odd fellow, never seemed to take a bath. That's why we kept him working in the water, sir," he finished. Gorplin heard him turn around to face backwards while he walked.
The thought nearly made him vomit.
"Right, Jurgon?" He asked lively.
Then there was a pause.
>
"Say, what's that back there, sir?" He asked. Gorplin didn't know if he was addressing him or Gaflion. He made sure his opinion was known regardless.
"Bah," he answered. "We'll find out when we've come to solid ground."
Another moment of silence followed.
"Gorplin," came Gaflion's voice. His tone was grave.
"It is imperative that you run!" He said, warning the dwarf urgently.
Gorplin knew that tone. He gathered up his courage, turned on the spot, and looked back to the other side from which they had come.
Four bright purple fires shone there. Each one was moving closer and closer to the bridge.
"Run!" Gaflion yelled.
And the four purple flames began to race down the bridge in a line, straight for Gorplin and the others.
HE DREW HIS AXE AND stood to face the demons that ran to them.
“Come on, Gaflion!” he said as he felt his fear waning in the prospect of a battle. “Let the halflings get to the other side, we can hold them off!”
“And then who will lead the halflings to Grandun-Krator?” Gaflion asked. “Now is not the moment of sacrifice. Run!”
Gorplin looked at Jurrin and Jurgon and knew Gaflion was right. These two little ones would need their protection.
He breathed out, strapped his axe to his back, and turned around.
Putting his fear behind him, as much as he could at least, Gorplin ran down the bridge. He didn't dare to glance over his shoulder, lest he lose his footing and fall into the blackness below.
He didn't need to look back anyway. He could hear the demons coming for them.
There was a low growl that sounded both far away and very near. Like someone was shouting and whispering into his ear at the same time.
Gorplin had seen the destructive power of a demon. He had led a charge against the one that had landed in the middle of a battle after breaking off from the dark comet.
From a distance, these looked much smaller than that great hulking beast.
“Master Jurgon!” Gaflion yelled as they sprinted. “Can you manage a bolt of energy?”
The halfling had been running as hard as he could. Gorplin knew that any magic would drain him fast. There would be no way of him finding enough strength in him to Speak much.
“Yup!” he said as he turned and whispered some words of magic. A blue bolt, like a small streak of lightning, came from his hand. It sped down the bridge and collided with a purple flame.
A pained howl rang out. One of the purple flames teetered and fell into the ravine, lighting up the blackness below for a moment. Then it went out.
“Excellent job, Master Jurgon!”
The halfling was wheezing now. His magic had cost him dearly.
“Think you can wrestle up another?” Jurrin asked him as they neared the other side of the chasm.
“Nope!” Jurgon struggled to reply.
Gorplin had known the answer long before Jurrin asked. To use Rimstone used so much energy from the untrained. He had seen it before.
Speakers were granted a wonderful gift. But using it too frequently or with too much force could put a Speaker at an extreme disadvantage.
The end of the bridge was just ahead. Gorplin, seeing that the bridge was widening, took a glance back. Jurrin was half carrying Jurgon. Gaflion was hurrying them along as best as he could.
All the while, a steadily growing purple light was gaining on them.
It could come to a fight soon enough.
Gorplin turned around just in time to skid to a halt.
There was a five-foot gap in the bridge. Underneath them was the last column before the stones connected with the other side of the chasm. The pillar still stood, but a portion of the structure had given way to time.
They couldn't cross.
Gorplin turned and stopped Jurrin and Jurgon before they ran off the end of the bridge.
“Bah. It's no use, Gaflion,” he said. “We'll have to fight.”
“Not we,” Gaflion replied.
In one motion, he scooped up Jurrin in his arms, and tossed him the length of the gap. Gaflion let out a strained grunt, and Gorplin remembered that he was still recovering from hurt ribs. The halfling landed on his feet, but the bridge beneath him swayed.
“Good toss, sir!” he said as he turned back with his arms open. “I'm ready!”
Gaflion picked up Jurgon, who was still wheezing, and threw him into Jurrin's waiting arms. Again, the bridge swayed precariously and again, Gaflion let out a groan. Sweat was pouring from his brow. A few stones fell from underneath the bridge.
“You can't do that with me,” Gorplin protested, partly out of pride and partly knowing that he weighed at least twice as much as the halflings did. Dwarves were not known for their light frames.
“Someone has to go with the halflings,” Gaflion countered, breathing heavily.
“I might be able to jump it.” Gorplin said.
Gaflion looked down at the dwarf with skeptical eyes.
A much louder roar rang out. The demons were approaching.
From this distance, Gorplin could begin to make out their shape.
These creatures looked more like hounds or wolves than the one they fought previously. Yet the only resemblance was a creature with four legs, a snout, and a tail.
Instead of fur, the beasts had skin that appeared to be made up of scales. Their massive jaws held razor-sharp teeth. They looked like they were foaming at the mouth.
They would also be upon them in moments.
"Now is not the time to argue, Master Gorplin!" Gaflion said as he grabbed him around his collar and under his belt.
Just as he was about to toss him, Gaflion paused and looked at the two halflings.
Jurgon held his hand outstretched and was muttering words of incantation.
Another bolt of energy flew from his hand and just missed Gaflion's head by a hand's width.
The magic shot hit another beast, sending it sprawling back into its companions. This caused another one to fall into the canyon below.
But now the bridge on both sides began to sway precariously.
"It's time, Master Gorplin," Gaflion said as he launched the dwarf over the gap.
As Gorplin's feet landed on the stones, they began to give way underneath him.
Jurrin reached out his hand and caught Gorplin's arm, pulling him along. The two of them managed to drag Jurgon to safety. The bridge began to give out from underneath them. Stones fell free and crashed into whatever awaited them below.
The darkness was overtaking the landscape.
"Jump, Gaflion!" Gorplin shouted, looking back at the stout old warrior.
Even as he said it, he knew it was hopeless. The gap was now ten feet wide and widening with every new stone that fell.
They ran for the end of the bridge. Gorplin, Jurgon and Jurrin reached the safety of the other side of the chasm and stood on firm ground. The dwarf took stock of the halflings. They seemed fine enough. He was more concerned about the great distance between them and Gaflion.
"You old fool!" Gorplin shouted. He was now a stone's throw away from the soldier. The bridge had given out all the way to the cliff face.
"Take care of the halflings, Master Gorplin," he yelled back at them. "Remember your purpose!"
He turned away and drew his sword, preparing to meet the remaining two demon hounds head on.
"Can't we help him, sir?" Jurrin said with desperation and sadness in his voice.
Gorplin was sure the halfling knew the answer to his own question.
The two beasts, still covered in their demonic purple flames, ran down the length of the bridge as quickly as their powerful legs would let them.
Gaflion simply stood, his back to Gorplin, sword drawn and in a defensive position.
There was no sign of fear or retreat in him.
The first beast waited until it was a few paces away before it leapt. Gorplin could see the red eyes of the beast glare at him. He pushed both halflin
gs behind him and drew his axe.
There was little need.
Gaflion jumped and slashed with his own blade, cutting a deep wound into the beast's belly. With a yelp, it faltered and fell into the chasm.
Gorplin ran up to the face and watched the thing fall, it's purple flame's extinguishing as it did. Looking up, he saw the other beast, racing headlong into Gaflion.
The old warrior recovered from his previous maneuver and thrust his sword with deadly precision. Just as the beast roared, Gaflion's blade entered its mouth. Though it was dead before it reached him, the beast's momentum hit the veteran from Thoran hard. The two went tumbling down into the chasm together. A purple light followed them for a moment.
And then it went out.
"NO!" yelled Gorplin, falling to his knees as he watched the blackness over take the chasm as well as his heart.
30: Through Trials Still
Blume had lost count of the days.
At first she had attempted to pay attention to the passing of day and night and keep track of it all in her head. But through Jeremy's sickness and her own deteriorating condition, she just couldn't keep up with trivial things like time anymore.
The cart was beginning to get smaller. Not that it was possible for the wooden cage to actually shrink, Blume reminded herself. Still, she felt as if she couldn't move without bumping into the sides of her prison or into one of the other occupants.
She had actually yelled at Thomas the other day. She felt awful about it now, but in that moment she had lost control and couldn't hold back.
"Would you quit wiggling so much? You keep waking me up!" she had screamed.
Looking back, she was sure he wasn't even awake before she raised her voice at him. He looked hurt and confused.
She looked at him now, snuggled with Rose and the others.
Even Jeremy had been sleeping in his own corner of the cart. His fever had broken, but he still complained of headaches. Due to this, he kept his head back, his eyes closed, and his mouth shut.
Blume felt distant from everyone, though they weren't more than an arm's length away. She wanted space. She wanted to run. She wanted out.
Even as she formed that thought, she began to question it.
