|
Welcome to the first of our e-short stories (or webvellas as Art likes to call them) New updates will be arriving every couple of days!
The Tale of Dronkhar and Ilinnia, by Jonathan and Kira Wilson
Ilinnia regarded the fading daylight as she walked down the grass-grown path, stepping lightly to avoid getting burs caught in her sandaled feet. She had hoped to make the village of Tarn before nightfall, the promise of sleep in a real bed luring her onward through the noon-day meal, but now that hope seemed to be diminishing with the sun's orange glow. Like all Queferi, Ilinnia lived on the coast and had never ventured so far inland before. The idea of another night camping alone in bracken after almost two weeks on the road came as a great disappointment.
After several minutes of weaving through weeds taller than her four-and-a-half-foot height, Ilinnia paused, shook out her tumble of azure curls and considered. Queferi children grew up with stories of the angry ghosts hiding in shadows under trees. Even the Elders had warned her at the start of her journey of the road's treacheries past nightfall. But to combat the darkness, Ilinnia had a weapon the Elders did not know of.
She rummaged in her pack until she found a heavy stone wrapped in cloth. It was a quartz geode her eldest sister Aurelia had enchanted for her; learning how to unlock the spell had been Ilinnia’s first step to becoming a Maion, a spirit weaver. Aurelia didn't know how long the spell would last once it was first invoked, and she had cautioned her to use it wisely.
Ilinnia weighed the stone in her hand, comforted by its heaviness. While she had been standing there, the sun shrank to a wavering lip of yellow on the horizon.
"Once it is completedly dark," she promised. "And only until I can see Tarn." With that, she continued on her way.
Dronkhar gasped and his step faltered. He stumbled down the loosely packed gravel of the hill-side, clutching his hand to his side. The bruised dwarf paused for a moment and pulled his hand away from the wound, grimacing at the blood coating his skin. He shut his eyes and focused on calming his mind, putting the bear's mighty roar out of his memory.
Despite the pain, Dronkhar pressed his hand firmly against the gash and stumbled on. In the fading light he grinned wildly as he recalled the rush of battle. Though surprised and facing a foe many times his size, he'd given far better than he'd received. If not for the fact that he had been fleeing blindly and trying for best speed, he would have come away with some nice slabs of bear meat and a new furry cloak for the journey.
Dronkhar paused again as he reached the bottom of the hill. He stood quietly, turning his head to the side to listen intently to the sounds behind him. A breathless moment passed, with the bloodied warrior's heartbeat thudding through his ears as he listened to the silence of the wild.
Convinced that pursuit was still some ways behind him, Dronkhar staggered toward a nearby copse of trees, seeking cover from unfriendly eyes. From the top of the hill he had spied the lights of a nearby town. As lances of pain seared through his body, he decided to risk a venture into whatever civilization lay beyond. If his wound wasn't tended soon, the blood loss would end any hope he had of righting the wrongs done to him. Hoping that his Baelrock pursuers would avoid a non-dwarven settlement, he limped on, driving himself forward by force of will alone.
The tall grasses gave way to trees, young saplings that flanked the road on either side. In the daylight it would have been pretty, but now it was a tunnel of growing darkness. Ilinnia tried hard not to imagine it like a mouth opening wide to swallow her up. Clutching her geode, she forged on, straight down the gullet of twilight. Insects began their eerie cacophony of noises.
As the trees thickened and grew closer together, they sealed a roof over her head. In places the path ran right beneath one of those great tyrants, and the knot of dread in Ilinnia's stomach tightened. Finally she stopped. Night was complete, and so dark she could no longer be sure her feet still followed the road.
Kneeling down on a patch of fallen leaves, Ilinnia wrapped her fingers around the stone. She imagined herself within its heart, protected, safe from the evils that walked the earth in darkness. Beneath its rough surface, she could feel the warmth of Aurelia's magic, her sister's love for her, and she called out to it.
The stone pulsed. Startled, Ilinnia almost dropped it. Her hands shifted, and the geode separated into two pieces. Silver light glowed from each drop of crystal, and the shadows fled from it in terror.
Ilinnia drank in the light, letting it fill her and renew her strength. One piece of the stone she wrapped back in its cloth and put it away. The other she held like a beacon to keep the night at bay and got her bearings. There lay the path right beneath her feet; she had never strayed from it after all.
She began walking again with the stone aloft before her, but she hadn’t gone far when she paused again. Fresh blood, as bright as holly berries, cut a trail across the road and veered off to the right, where the trees grew denser. Only steep hills lay in the other direction, so whatever wounded creature passed by had to be moving further in.
The voices of not only the Elders, but of all her clan rallied in her mind, warning her not to leave the path under any circumstances. But Ilinnia's heart protested. The calling of the Maion was that of healer and guide, learning to weave the energies of the earth to protect all under her charge. This blood had not fallen long ago—she may have even heard the creature pass while she stumbled blind. Perhaps this was a test by the Ai, the spirits, to see if she possessed the soul worthy to serve them.
Brandishing her shining crystal, Ilinnia left the road.
The night stretched on into shadow, and the sounds of crickets and creatures filled the darkness, undisturbed by the figure trudging slowly through the trees and undergrowth. Dronkhar had quickly lost track of time, as the darkness enveloped him like a warm blanket. He could no longer feel his wound, and everything around him seemed masked by a red-tinged haze. He had set as straight a course as possible toward the lights of the town, but once in the forest, all sense of direction failed him. Only the iron will of a battle-hardened warrior kept him driving forward.
Light glittered faintly through the trees ahead, and Dronkhar quickened his step, a faint hope seeping into his heart. His destination lay in reach. As he burst through a thicket of undergrowth into the light beyond, the dregs of disappointment quickly replaced the glimmering warmth within. No town waited on the horizon. No aid, no rest would be forthcoming. Dragging himself forward, the dwarf crossed the moonlit clearing and sat noisily on a small hill in the middle of the meadow.
Observing his surroundings with a weary eye, Dronkhar noticed several colored strips of cloth scattered across the ground. He cast his gaze about and noticed bits of food and the remains of a fire, not long dead. From all appearances, this was some sort of gathering spot for a festival or party. The town had to be nearby. Grinning to himself, Dronkhar staggered to his feet, the jolt reminding him painfully that his wound was still quite fresh. Grimacing as he bent, the dwarf gathered a pair of the longer cloth strips and bound his chest as tightly as possible. Turning toward an opening in the forest wall, he was snapped into full alert by the sounds of crashing underbrush behind. Two dark figures burst into the clearing, cursing and growling in a low, harsh language. Shielding their eyes from the moonlight above, they noticed Dronkhar and advanced, a cruel gleam lighting in their eyes.
"So at last we find you, little bird," the leading figure said in crude Dwarvish. "You've led us on quite the merry chase."
Dronkhar frowned and turned to face this new threat. Assessing his opponents intently, he did not reply except to loosen the axes at his side. He drew his weapons purposefully and settled into a battle stance.
The second dwarf, covered in matted hair and reeking of some deep foulness, grinned wildly at Dronkhar. "Oy mate, looks like this one hasn't lost enough blood yet. Leaves us a trail for miles and miles and still wants to shed some more. We wouldn't want to disappoint him now, would we?"
The leader of the scouts chuckled, and the pair drew long hook-bladed knives from their belts. They shared a final glance and moved forward, each circling to a different side of their opponent.
Dronkhar kept his body centered and watched his opponents advance. Muscles tensing, he waited for the perfect moment. He was outnumbered and wounded; tactics would have to compensate for lowered reflexes and strength. His enemies paused, arrayed on opposite sides of him, and a breathless second passed. Dronkhar saw a flicker of intent in the leader's eyes as the cowardly Baelrock scout summoned the courage to attack.
Smiling inwardly, Dronkhar leapt without warning, sweeping his foe's knife aside with his left axe even as he brought the right crashing down upon the dwarf's head. The axe bit deeply, cleaving the Baelrock's head nearly in two. Bracing himself, Dronkhar pivoted quickly on his heel and hurled his other axe squarely at the startled scout. Pain flared through his arm as he released, his wound protesting the violent movements, and the axe strayed from its intended mark, striking the second dwarf in the shoulder.
The surviving Baelrock wrenched the blade from his flesh and hurled it to the ground with a curse. Snarling, he advanced on his prey, fury and rage overcoming his natural fear of the bleeding warrior. He charged up the hill and thrust his knife forward with all of his might, hoping to impale his enemy in a single thrust. Dronkhar had expected a crude display of skill and quickly spun to his left, lashing out with his right hand to grab the wrist of the charging scout. He struck with his left fist and smote the scout's elbow with a resounding blow. A sickening crack sounded through the meadow, and Dronkhar smiled as his foe screamed in anguish.
The knife fell to the ground as the scout struggled to free himself from Dronkhar's iron grip. Another swift punch to the Baelrock's face dazed him, and he could only watch in horror as Dronkhar stooped to pick up the knife with his spare hand.
Dronkhar glared at his helpless opponent, and the pain, the battle-rage and the anger that had been building since his betrayal flowed into his gaze. "You are no dwarf," he growled as he drove the knife hilt-deep into the Baelrock's belly. He held his foe until the life faded from his eyes and then limped over to the first corpse. He tore the axe free and crossed the hill, locating his second blade by a glint of reflected moonlight.
Cleaning both weapons on the pristine grass, Dronkhar turned back to the path out of the clearing. A wave of dizziness swept through him, and a searing pain awoke in his right shoulder. He reached up to touch the fresh wound and sighed, realizing that his spin had been a touch too slow. The Baelrock's knife had found a target. Looking about the hill for more strips of cloth, the red haze washed up over his vision, and he fell wearily into darkness.
Young as she was, Ilinnia recognized the sounds of fighting up ahead. Quickly she wrapped her glowing geode in the folds of her robe and dropped to the ground, curling into as tight a ball as possible until the harsh cries died away. She waited a few minutes more, then stood up and peered through a break in the trees.
Moonlight shone brightly on the grass of the clearing, as well as the two fallen bodies. A third figure shuffled about, and Ilinnia clapped a hand over her mouth and kept very still, but he did not look in her direction. He moved slowly, as if tired or in pain. Even as she watched, he stiffened and then sank to the ground at the far edge of the clearing.
Ai be with me, she prayed desperately, I don’t know what to do!
Unwrapping her guidelight, she caught sight of the blood trail, leading directly into the clearing. She took a deep breath and left her cover.
There was a lot more blood on the ground now, which made the trail harder to track. The light fell on the faces of the fallen, and Ilinnia realized they were dwarves. Queferi had little to do with dwarves these days, but her grandfather had been friendly with them in his younger years, and she remembered his tales of their proud and fierce ways. Two of them were clearly dead and no threat to her.
The trail of blood, larger than before, led her straight to the third dwarf. His bearded face was pale and glistened with sweat, but he still breathed shallowly. The most obvious wounds were in the large muscles of his right shoulder and in his side. She knelt beside him to get a closer look.
The shoulder wound didn’t look deep, and the bleeding had already slowed, but the gashes in his side looked ugly. Claw marks from some wild animal… a big animal. The crude bindings came away sticky with old and new blood.
Ilinnia chewed her bottom lip nervously as she gazed down at the injured dwarf, then gave a small sigh. "I really hope you’re what the Ai wanted me to find," she whispered to his still form. "Just… be nice when you wake up."
Rolling up her sleeves, she went to work. She set the geode down and shined its light on the injury. From her small pack she took out her waterpouch, a rough bone knife and a roll of cloth. It took most of the water she had to wash the scratches clean. Next she cut a long piece and folded it over to make a thick pad to staunch the remaining blood. A few of those colorful cloth strips lay within reach. She gathered them up, tied them together, and used them to secure the bandage. As expected, the shoulder was easier, though the waterpouch was empty to the last drop when she finished.
He didn’t move once during her ministrations. His breathing remained thin, but even. If he bore any other injuries, Ilinnia couldn’t find them. Though she suspected he would survive, she didn't think it wise to leave him alone, where any wild creature attracted to the scent of blood might find him. Besides, this whole affair had her curious now. What part did the Ai want her to play in this?
With that decision went any hope of reaching Tarn tonight, but Ilinnia found she no longer cared. This was more important than sleeping in a bed one night sooner.
Gathering up her guidelight again, she ducked back under the trees in search of wood for a campfire.
A wave of warmth rolled over Dronkhar's face, and a crackling sound roused him from the darkness. He opened his eyes and stared up at blazing clouds in a reddish sky. Confusion reigned for a moment before he placed the sight as a dawn sky. The sound would be a fire. How long had he been unconscious?
Dronkhar slowly sat up and surveyed the area. A fire had been lit on top of the hill, though it had burned down low. The sky above indicated that day was breaking. The corpses of his fallen foes had been covered by strips of cloth. Someone had been to the clearing and had tended to him and to the fallen.
A rustling near the path from the meadow drew Dronkhar's attention. A petite figure slipped into view and stopped as she caught his gaze. She crept forward, keeping the fire between them. She was too short to be human, but a half a hand taller than himself. Dronkhar wasn't sure what to make of her. Her face reminded him of Nolaara and pang of memory bit at his heart.
The fight had been short and brutal, the smell of blood was thick in the air, the floor covered with corpses. Spinning around, Dronkhar looked frantically around the broken tavern for signs of Nolaara. But there were no signs of what had happened to her. Shouts outside the building told him that retreat was going to be necessary. With an oath, he threw a chair through a nearby window and clambered out, running as soon as he was clear.
Dronkhar blinked and looked again at the newcomer. He cleared his throat and did his best to keep his voice level. "So, I have you to thank for my treatment?"
Ilinnia set down a fresh pile of firewood, tingling nerves making her heartbeat jump. To his question she nodded, but her gaze flickered toward the covered bodies of the other two dwarves. Ai, please watch over me, she prayed. “I should warn you,” she said, trying to keep the tremble out of her voice. “If you intend to cause me harm, I know spells that would paralyze you before you could even reach for your weapon.”
He gave a deep chuckle. “Not sure what harm I could do in this condition, but fair enough.”
She was taken aback by that, but he did have a point. A slight blush crept into her cheeks. She felt silly being so nervous. Of course the Ai wouldn’t lead her into danger. But despite the months of study and training to prepare for this journey, so much of the inland world was still a mystery to her.
And to be fair, it wasn’t every day one stumbled upon a group of dwarves trying to kill each other.
“I hadn’t expected you to be awake so early,” she said as she renewed the fire. “Your wounds weren’t terribly serious, but you’ll want to be careful of your side. Did something attack you?”
“Aye. Ran afoul of a bear looking for breakfast.”
Ilinnia had heard of bears, and she thought it impressive that he had escaped with just a few slashes. Broad-shouldered with a stocky frame and muscular arms, he had the look of someone who knew how to take care of himself. His deep-set eyes stared absently into the fire she prodded, and though awake she thought he still looked drawn and tired.
Once the fire was crackling cheerfully once more, she moved around it until she was only a few feet away from him and sat down. “What is your name?”
“Dronkhar.”
“A dwarf, yes?”
“Or so I’ve been told,” he replied, and she giggled unexpectedly at the joke. “You, however, are new to me.”
“I’m Queferi.” She frowned a little. “You haven’t heard of us before?”
Dronkhar gave a light shrug. “Generally dwarves don’t travel much.”
“Oh. Well, um,” Ilinnia stammered, “we… we like the ocean. Very few of us live far from the coast. Others often think we’re related to the sea-clans, but it’s not really true.” She stopped herself before she could babble further, the blush returning ten-fold.
Dronkhar only chuckled again. “Well, Queferi, you know a bit about healing, and that was lucky for me. Can’t say bleeding to death in a clearing would’ve been enjoyable.”
Ilinnia smiled. “You’re welcome.”
Dronkhar shook himself awake and looked at the sky. The dawn colors had faded away into blue, indicating that he must have dozed off for an hour or so. He probed at his side and found it to be sore but serviceable. With a grunt, he clambered to his feet and checked to make sure his gear was all present.
The Queferi gave a start at the sound. She looked to have been meditating or some nonsense. Dronkhar gave a snort and stretched out his arms and legs. "Well, my mysterious defender, I need to get back on the road before I lose any more time. Iron guide your path and guard your way." He nodded in her direction before turning to the path and striding out of the clearing.
After walking for several minutes, Dronkhar could detect light footfalls approaching from behind. With a sigh, he paused and turned around. "I appreciate the help you gave, Queferi, but you'd best be on your own way."
"My name is Ilinnia," she said as she drew alongside him. "I know this may sound strange, but I believe my quest is to accompany you on your travels."
Dronkhar rolled his eyes and suppressed a groan. "I'm no one's quest, nor should I be of interest, especially to anyone like yourself." He hefted an arm and pointed back down the path toward the clearing. "The scene you saw there is likely to be repeated more than once along my path. Are you willing to be a party to battle?"
Ilinnia's lips tightened and she appeared torn. Slowly, a resolute look spread over her face. "I have no wish to bring harm to another being, but the Ai have led me to this path for a reason. It is their will that I accompany you, no matter what that entails."
Shaking his head, Dronkhar resumed his walk along the trail. The last thing he needed was a spiritual guide trying to steer him to the worship of any of Inoth's deities. They'd never done anything for him, so he felt no need to show deference to them. Still, she had saved his life, and that had to count for something.
Dronkhar beckoned Ilinnia with a wave of his arm. "Very well, if you're going to tag along, then try to keep up. Now, it seems like there's some sort of civilization up ahead. Lets see what we can glean from it."
Ilinnia found herself at a loss for words, so much of their walk was spent in silence. She wondered if Dronkhar preferred it that way. Many times she glanced over to find his gaze fixed upon the path ahead, his expression distant and neutral. She was curious about what occupied him but uncertain how to ask.
Tall weeds bearing small, white flowers grew on either side of the road. As she passed by, Ilinnia plucked one up. “Snowmist,” she said with a smile.
“Hmm?”
“It’s useful for alleviating pain.” She held the flower up when Dronkhar looked over. The dwarf made a sound that might have been a snort and turned away again. “Don’t be so quick to dismiss it,” she told him. “If your side bothers you still, I can use it in a salve or a tea later.”
“Pain shouldn’t be shied away from,” he said. “It’s part of life. Run away from it, and it’ll just catch you later.”
Ilinnia pursed her lips, but she kept any comments to herself. Her thoughts turned back to the previous night. “Why did you kill those other dwarves?”
Dronkhar shrugged, a gesture she was becoming familiar with. “To keep them from doing the same to me.”
“They wanted to kill you? Why?”
Faint lines appeared around the corners of his eyes as his expression tightened. “That’s no concern of yours,” he said with a bit of an edge. “They’re dead, I’m not, and that’s the end of it.”
Ilinnia swallowed and stared at the dirt road moving under her feet. “My apologies.” Uncomfortable silence stretched on for several moments. “There should be some places to rest once we reach Tarn,” she ventured.
“You know the town?” He sounded a little surprised.
“I know of it,” she corrected. “There’s an oask there. All Maion initiates visit one on their journeys. The Ai will tell me the next step—”
“The town could house the king’s bloody palace, and I wouldn’t care, as long as there’s a tavern.”
The trail stretched on interminably, and Dronkhar slipped into a brooding silence. It would not be long before the Baelrock knew that their scouts had failed. He was certain that they wouldn't be able to track him through mundane means any longer, but a Spiritbinder is all it would take to find him, wherever he ran. The question then was, how much did they want him dead?
Dronkhar spared a glance at the Queferi and caught her staring at him. She quickly averted her gaze. He snorted and picked up the pace. Whether or not his foes were hunting him, he would have to return, and sooner rather than later. While his escape and flight had consumed his thoughts and actions, the brief respite and return to civilization had brought Nolaara sharply back into his mind.
Just the thought of what the Baelrock might be doing to her brought a growl to his throat. The Queferi jumped, and it wasn't long before her inquisitve nature intruded once again. "Is everything all right?" she asked.
"Just bloody fine," Dronkhar responded with a growl. "How much farther til we get to this Torn place?"
"Tarn. Truthfully, I'm not sure. I've never been past the borders of our village before."
He rolled his eyes. A great lot of help she was. "So you don't really know if we're heading the right direction, do you?"
A faint hint of frustration snuck into her tone. "I have more senses than just the five you seem to be stuck with. The oask is directly ahead, and we are drawing nearer." She crossed her arms and looked away from him pointedly.
There may be some fire in her yet . . .
Dronkhar shrugged and continued down the path. The next half hour passed in blissful silence.
From her grandfather’s stories, Ilinnia had expected dwarves to be rather gruff. She hadn’t anticipated rude. The minutes rolled by as she ignored Dronkhar’s presence, keeping her gaze fixed on the road ahead to make sure he knew she was ignoring him. The power of the oask continued to call her from the distance, the gap between them closing steadily, and before she knew it her peaceful smile had returned.
“We should be there soon,” she said.
“Oh aye?” Dronkhar replied. “Little birdy told you, did it?”
This time, the annoyance that flared up was faint and brief. The road curved gracefully before them, the trees growing thinner to either side. Around the next bend, they could see where they dwindled altogether into cultivated fields. Tiled roofs behind a short, stone wall lay beyond that.
Ilinnia gave Dronkhar her sweetest smile. He returned it with a shrug, and the mismatched pair continued their walk until they reached Tarn’s wall.
The townspeople consisted mostly of humans that tossed polite waves to Ilinnia and mildly curious glances at Dronkhar. It wasn’t long before the dwarf halted in front of a wooden building with a cluster of grapes painted on a signpost out front. “This is where I leave you,” he grunted. “I’m sure one of these people can tell you where to find your oak-thing.”
Ilinnia gave a sigh that ended with a laugh. “It’s called an oask, and I can find it on my own.”
There was that shrug she was already becoming familiar with. Without another word Dronkhar stepped into the building.
Ilinnia turned down a side passage that eventually led her to a plot of tilled earth where flowering bushes and a few short trees had been planted. A circle in the dirt had been marked out with shells and stones. She faced the direction of the sun, knelt in the center of that circle and closed her eyes.
I have come, she prayed. Ai, great spirits of the earth and heart, guide me. I am prepared for the next journey…
The sunlight on her face darkened, as if a cloud had come between them. A chill breeze blew through her hair. A tendril of fear wormed into her heart, and she felt her pulse quicken.
I don’t understand, she called. I’m supposed to see…
Ilinnia heard the stones, the flowers, the grass, all of nature scream in terror and pain as something dark touched it. With heavy footsteps it crushed the life from the plants and tore the trees from their roots. She struggled to make a sound, but fear gripped her throat. Step by step it came, behind her—
She bolted to her feet. There was the sun again, and the green fields, but the terror still held her fast. The Ai were giving her a warning…something was coming…!
Like a lightning bolt Ilinnia ran from the oask, back the way she came.
Dronkhar pushed through the heavy curtain separating the inside of the tavern from the rest of the world and tromped to the bar. He noted surprised looks from the few villagers already muddling their wits this afternoon. He reached into his belt pouch and flipped a shining coin onto the bar as he approached. "That should be enough for a tankard of whatever your strongest is here. Enough to keep it coming as well."
The barman picked the coin up with a surprised look on his face. Dronkhar gathered that the village didn't often see gold coinage. It was a bit much to spend even for the considerable amount of liquor he could imbibe, but the impatience that had been growing inside wouldn't brook any time for haggling. The barkeep brought out a sizeable cup, near to overflowing, and slid it across to Dronkhar's waiting hand.
Wiping his beard after a large swig, Dronkhar noticed another figure tucked into a shadowed corner of the room. Grabbing his drink, he crossed the room toward it. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he could make out another dwarf, a Deepdelver from the looks of him. The dwarf eyed him warily as he sat down at the table. "I'd not thought to see a Bloodfire dwarf again in my lifetime. You have the smell of the Baelrock on you though."
Dronkhar grimaced at the comment and took another drink. "Desperate work after the breaking of the clan. Though after that stint, even this swill tastes good by comparison." He noted the large satchel resting next to the other dwarf. "Have times grown so tough that even the miners are forced to trade with the human realms?"
A scowl crossed the Delver's face. "The fall of your clan disturbed the politics between all of the dwarves. With fewer folk to purchase their weapons, the Earthsmiths had less need to purchase our ores, forcing me to come to places like these." His gaze wandered around the bar as a sneer crossed his lips. "Word has been spreading that the Baelrock have begun some machinations of their own as well. What do you know of that?"
Dronkhar was about to respond when the curtain to the outside was rudely thrust open, and a familiar Queferi dashed into the room, terror clean to see on her face. Something was wrong.
Ilinnia dashed into the tavern and clutched her knees. She felt sick and wobbly with terror, her heart pulsing in her ears. Something gripped her arm, and instinctively she tried to pull away.
“It’s me, girl!” a gruff voice snapped. “What in the fires of earth is going on?”
Dronkhar. Ilinnia opened her eyes. The dwarf was staring at her intently, his free hand already clutching one of the axes he carried. “Something’s coming,” she gasped.
“What’s coming?”
“I don’t know!” Her voice soared with an edge of panic. “I was at the oask, and I felt the world scream. The Ai sent me a warning. Something is killing everything in its path. It’s coming here!”
Every eye in the tavern was turned toward her now. Whispers and mutters began to swirl about the room, some in fear, others in mockery. Another dwarf glanced between her and Dronkhar, his hand inching toward a long hilt at his belt. Dronkhar himself seemed angry, and his hand was still on her arm.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know any—”
“Hush, I’m trying to think!”
Ilinnia snapped her mouth closed and tried very hard not to whimper. Fear and the memory of nature’s pain was growing worse with each moment. It felt like burning, a slow scorching on her skin.
At last Dronkhar pulled her away to a corner, then pointed at the other dwarf. “You stay with her,” he commanded, then loosened his other axe. “I’m going for a look outside.”
The dwarf looked startled but nodded. Dronkhar tromped across the room and shoved the curtain aside.
Dronkhar stepped outside and was immediately assaulted with the acrid scent of smoke and distant cries for help. The villagers, lacking his trained senses, hadn't yet realized the danger that was upon them.
Grabbing the nearest local, Dronkhar pointed at the faint wisps just becoming visible above the tree line. "This village is under attack. Get a town elder, grand high mucky-muck or whoever you need to grab, and start evacuating. Now!"
Dronkhar watched as the villager scurried off, shouting at the top of his lungs. He shook his head and drew his axes.
All right. Lets see what the hell is coming this way.
He sprinted through the emptying streets toward the smell of smoke. The screams which had pierced the air before had given way to an ominous silence. Dronkhar slowed as he approached the sounds of fighting. He leaned around the corner of a small house and stared at the sight before him.
A metallic figure, almost like a living statue of a man, leaned down to the ground and crushed the skull of a struggling peasant. Behind the figure, several similar creatures tore a house apart bare-handed. The first statue raised its head, and Dronkhar felt its eyeless stare pierce his hiding place. A tremor of dread washed over him, but he pushed it aside. Whatever these things were, they needed to be destroyed. He stepped out from behind the house and braced for an attack.
The creature didn't bother with subtlety or tactics. It merely charged at him, arms open wide as if to grab him. Dronkhar ducked to the side and lashed out with his axe, aiming for where a man's hamstring would have been. The axe bounced harmlessly off of the metal surface, leaving no trace it had even touched his opponent.
For a moment, the statue looked confused as to how its prey had eluded it. It regained its focus quickly, however, and turned again to face Dronkhar. This time it swung its fist at him and launched into a fluid series of attacks when the first punch failed to connect.
Though it possessed signifcant strength, Dronkhar easily avoided its attacks. He countered whenever possible, but again, his axe failed to find purchase against the metallic foe. He could sense the other creatures approaching behind him and knew that he would be hard pressed to fight them all.
Something was going to give.
Each second that Dronkhar was gone seemed to crawl like a snail. The pain grew until Ilinnia was on her knees, perspiration sliding down her face. The dwarf Dronkhar had left with her shouted at the barman for a drink of water.
“That Queferi’s got some pox,” he argued, suspicion plain in his eyes. “Might be catching.”
The hilt of the dwarf’s long knife slammed against the bar. “Did you not hear me? Quit your babbling and get some water!”
Shocked from his misgivings, the man raced to obey, and before long a tall cup of water was pressed into Ilinnia’s hands. She emptied it eagerly and felt a bit steadier on her feet afterwards. “Thank you,” she told the dwarf.
“Pay it no mind. Just what’s going on here? Bloodfires don’t stir easily, and you sent that one running with a few scared words. What do you think is coming to get us?”
“I don’t know,” Ilinnia said wretchedly. Part of her didn’t want to know. Such things had no right to exist in the world, and the thought that they did made her want to scream.
At that moment, a very real scream shattered the quiet air. It was shrill and utterly terrified. Those who had looked at Ilinnia before with mockery seemed less sure of themselves now, and someone suggested that they bar the door.
It was coming closer again. She could feel it in her skin, and yet she did nothing but cower in a corner. All of the living things cried out for help, even as burning steps trampled them, and she was just sitting there, paralyzed. Even Dronkhar, who couldn’t hear their frightened voices, had gone out to brave the terrible force, when it was she who claimed to be protector…
Ai, give me strength, Ilinnia prayed and tried to scramble to her feet. The surprised dwarf helped her the rest of the way. “Here, what’re you—”
Ilinnia broke from his grasp and ran for the flap that covered the door. The sunlit air outside held a trace of smoke that hadn’t been there before. An acrid cloud rose from the far end of the town, where the sound of screaming could still be heard.
“Hold it!” A hand landed upon her shoulder. She turned to the dwarf. “He meant for you to stay put.”
“We have to do something!” she said, and pointed at the knife at his belt. “What good does that do if we just sit here?”
The dwarf hesitated, glancing off toward the smoke, and Ilinnia saw a light flare in his eyes.
“We have to help him,” she pressed.
He muttered something unintelligible through his heavy mustache and unsheathed his weapon. “Lead the way, but stay out of trouble!”
“Thank you.” She turned and started running toward the rising smoke. Immediately she felt the heat on her skin intensify, but she did her best to ignore it, again praying desperately to the Ai for strength. One or two humans ran past them, coated with ash and clutching at bleeding wounds, but too frightened to stop and beg for help. Their only thought seemed to be flight.
When the sounds of battle came clearer, Ilinnia’s steps began to falter and tears stood out in her eyes. “This is madness, child!” the dwarf behind her yelled. “Find somewhere to hide, I’ll go ahead—” He grabbed her arm to pull her back.
Ilinnia cried out and yanked away. The touch burned like acid. She threw herself forward and out of his reach, only to stumble and fall as she rounded a corner.
Before her they stood, towering monstrosities of living metal. They reeled about when they saw her, and the malevolent heat of a thousand blackened suns seemed to focus on her. She pressed her face into the dirt and screamed.
The scream startled Dronkhar enough that the hulking creature knocked his weapon aside and nearly landed a follow up blow. He hastily ducked and rolled clear. Bracing himself, he spared a glance behind him and spotted the Queferi on the ground.
A muttered curse was all his enemies spared him. The first figure charged again, another close behind. Dronkhar sidestepped the first and swung his axe at the knee of the second. Instead of bouncing away, the weapon’s edge scored a mark on the metal skin—a graze, but with enough force behind the blow to lock the joint. The creature tumbled forward while he jumped clear.
Two more metal monsters turned toward the Queferi and the Deepdelver. Dronkhar ran to assist and tackled one of the figures, knocking it into the rubble of a collapsed house. His skin began to burn where it had touched the metal body of the figure. He struggled to his feet, but a metal arm reached out of the debris and grasped his beard painfully. Instinctively he chopped at it with his axe.
Metal rent against metal and tore a slight gash, from which a sulphurous liquid oozed. Shocked, Dronkhar tore his axe free and stumbled toward the others. The statue staggered to its feet, equally bewildered.
Dronkhar didn’t waste the opportunity. He hauled Ilinnia off the ground and whistled sharply to the Deepdelver. “Fall back!”
They ran past several lanes and ducked behind an abandoned blacksmith’s workshop. The Queferi was shaking and panting but seemed to have her wits again. The Deepdelver was staring intently, almost mesmerized, at the muck lining Dronkhar’s axe-head.
“All right, what in the Dar's prison was that?” he demanded, trying to hold to a whisper. “None of my swings could more than nick the bloody things. Then you two show up and suddenly their armor turns to butter.”
“Don’t look at me, I’m just a miner,” the Deepdelver said with a shrug.
“I… I think…” Ilinnia sniffed and scrubbed her dirty cheeks. “I think it was me.”
“What did you do?” Dronkhar said.
She shook her head. “I don’t know. Being that close to them… it was more pain than I've ever felt. Maybe. . . maybe I was having a similar effect on them?”
Dronkhar stared critically at her flushed face and sighed. “That's not going to be much help. You don't look like you'd last long enough to bring even one of them down.”
“No,” she murmured, looking thoughtful. “But maybe I can… let me see this.” She took hold of his axe, careful not to touch the dark liquid.
Ilinnia curled her fingers around the weapon’s haft, and an idea formed in her mind. Accomplished Maion back home had the ability to imbue objects with spiritual properties. Perhaps, if it really was her presence that had weakened those monstrous things, she could infuse Dronkhar’s axe with her own spiritual energy.
The trouble was, she had no idea how.
Something crashed not far from their hiding place, and a fresh wave of screams tore through the smoky air.
“Whatever you’re doing, do it faster, girl!” Dronkhar growled.
Ai, please, show me the way, she pleaded.
Ilinnia took the axe in both hands. She mouthed words of blessing and change, of connection, using them to sharpen her focus. She spoke her own name, and then a command.
Outwardly nothing changed, but Ilinnia felt something ripple through her clenched fingers. She looked at Dronkhar and handed the axe back to him. “I think that’s it.”
The wooden wall sheltering them shuddered and Ilinnia screamed. The two dwarves bolted to their feet as one of the metal creatures tore the building apart.
Dronkhar wasted no time. He charged, aimed for the figure’s legs, and swung mightily. Ilinnia cringed at the sound of metal tearing through metal. The other dwarf drew a hammer from his belt and followed up Dronkhar’s blow with one of his own. The creature's leg bent back, and it fell.
Swing after swing echoed through the street as axe met metal, chopping limbs and leaving gashes that oozed putrid liquid, all while the thing thrashed. Finally, the axe struck its neck and severed the head completely from the body.
Ilinnia felt a burning sensation on her back and turned around to see three more charging toward them. One clutched a rock that looked like it might have been part of a house once. It hurled the rock straight at her.
Ilinnia threw herself to the side. The rock struck the remains of the smithy, and the last wall crumpled. Thick planks of wood dropped down on her back and legs, and she cried out with pain.
The next moment Dronkhar was there, shoving the debris away. A fresh shock of pain lanced up her left leg. A half foot shard of wood jutted from her calf.
The monsters advanced on them.
“Take the girl and go,” the other dwarf shouted at Dronkhar. His face was wrenched with pain. The wall had fallen on his leg, crushing it.
“You won't survive against them on your own,” Dronkhar yelled back.
“I know.” Groaning, he bent to pick up a fallen plank and threw it at the advancing creatures. As one, they turned toward him. “Don't waste this.”
Ilinnia let herself be lifted, and tears streamed down her cheeks. She watched the brave dwarf for as long as she could, until his form was surrounded by metal bodies.
The path leading southeast out of the village bore evidence of the creatures’ passing, so Dronkhar turned north into the forest. The trees here were old, and the undergrowth thick, but the ground rose smoothly. Mindful of his injured load, Dronkhar moved as quickly as possible up the slope. His progress was slow but steady, and after an hour of trudging he crested a rise and the tree line opened to a grassy meadow split by a quiet brook. A gust of wind pushed past them, carrying away the smoky pall still drifting from the wreckage of Tarn.
“They aren’t following us,” the Queferi murmured. Dronkhar looked down. Ilinnia was staring back at the trees, her tears long since dried. “I can’t feel any trace of them here.”
Dronkhar gave a grunt of acknowledgement and took stock of their surroundings. They might have shaken any pursuers, but he wanted to avoid any other prying eyes while he tended to Ilinnia’s leg. The trees were close enough to provide good cover, and the water would be useful for his task. He was no healer, but he had done his share of field-dressings before. He set her down under the largest tree nearby and examined the wound more closely.
The wood shard was almost an inch across and buried deep in the muscle, though not far enough to emerge from the other side. Dronkhar swore quietly. No matter how he did this, it was going to hurt. As gently as he could, he gripped the shard. “All right, girl. You ready?”
“No,” Ilinnia said, her eyes moist again. She took a deep breath and clasped her arms to her chest. “Ai guide your hands.”
Dronkhar braced himself against the tree, counted down, then paused and looked into the distance with a look of surprise. Ilinnia cracked open an eye and turned to follow his gaze, and then he pulled. She gasped breathlessly, and blood flowed freely from the open wound. “Bandages in my pack,” she whispered. He fished around inside, but there was only enough cloth left to make a thick pad over the wound. He tore a strip from his tunic and tied it tightly over bandage. Ilinnia quieted again, concentrating on her breathing. Dronkhar jogged down to the stream and filled his flask with cold water.
Walking back to the tree, he caught a glimpse of her face and realized why he had thought of Nolaara at their first meeting. There was a subtle strength hiding in those features, not the unmovable stoniness his wife had possessed, but like the strength of the current in a river. His wife would have liked . . .
No. He wasn’t going to think she was gone, that he wouldn’t see her again.
“That dwarf…” Ilinnia’s voice intruded on Dronkhar's thoughts. “He saved our lives.”
“Aye, he did.” Dronkhar lifted her chin toward him and caught her gaze. “But so did you. Without your warning, no one would have escaped that death trap.”
She sniffed and nodded. “I know you didn't plan for this, but thank you for looking after me.”
Dronkhar scoffed and turned his head away. “We have to get out of here. We gave those ones the slip, but who knows how many more are running around.”
“We need to warn someone about them. Whatever their intent is, they are evil.” Ilinnia slung her bag over her shoulder. “I can sense if any get close to us. I'm ready.”
Dronkhar helped her to her feet and found a suitable walking stick. It would be slow-going, but his instincts told him that this was not over.
They walked in silence for some time, moving eastward as the terrain allowed. Dronkhar walked a few paces ahead and kept a searching gaze for any holes or hidden stones, while Ilinnia hobbled behind. She sent a continuous prayer to the Ai to ease her pain, so that she wouldn’t be a burden. Despite Dronkhar’s words earlier, she didn’t feel like she had helped anyone at all. The nagging sense that the fallen dwarf had wasted his life weighed heavily upon her.
Shame pricked at Ilinnia as she remembered that her wound wasn’t the only injury they'd sustained. “How is your side?” she asked.
“It was fine until you called attention to it.” Dronkhar glanced back at her, but the grim visage he bore couldn't hide the smile in his eyes. Ilinnia laughed in spite of her melancholy. “Don’t trouble yourself with it,” the dwarf continued, turning forward. “Trust me. I've had worse.”
“Quite the pair we make.”
Dronkhar snorted. “You’re only now realizing that?”
Ilinnia laughed again.
The shadows shifted under the thinning trees. The color of the sky darkened as the sun stretched toward the horizon. Ilinnia’s cheeks began to itch, but she said nothing. The moments lengthened, and her breath became heavy. “Wait,” she called out.
Dronkhar halted and gazed at her warily. Ilinnia closed her eyes and reached out with her other senses, trying to sort through the burning cloud in her mind. “There is something ahead of us. I don't know with certainty, but it feels like one of the monsters we fought. It is still far off, but our paths will cross if we continue this direction.”
The dwarf tugged on his beard. “Does it feel like we're being tracked?”
Ilinnia remained quiet for a moment, and the pulse lessened. “No, I don’t think so. It’s going somewhere else.”
“Good.” Something lit in Dronkhar’s eyes. “Keep your senses trained on it. We’ll get close, then follow along and see where it’s going.”
Ilinnia didn’t relish the idea of another encounter with those creatures, but she trusted Dronkhar. She limped forward, focusing her every sense to track their prey. The minutes dragged by in nervous silence when they nearly stumbled into a broken path through the forest. Bent branches and trampled undergrowth stretched in a line as far as they could see.
Dronkhar turned to face Ilinnia with a grave expression on his face. “I’d wager it's going that way.”
Ilinnia barely suppressed a chuckle.
She led them down the path toward their foe. Great footprints were burned into the skin of the earth. It had knocked young trees and rocks from its path, so single-minded was its course. As they walked, she saw that there were more tracks. Smaller prints were pressed into the earth alongside the main path. Dronkhar knelt down suddenly and picked something from a patch of scorched leaves. It looked liked worked metal. The dwarf closed his fist around it as his face twisted with rage.
“What is it?” Ilinnia asked, suddenly frightened.
“Baelrock,” Dronkhar spat. “The fiend has an escort of Baelrock dwarves with it.”
|
