Dragondoom

CHAPTER 39

Winter, 3E1602-03

[The Present]

The echoes stopped ringing and the earth stopped trembling; the spires had fallen and smashed asunder; Andrak’s strongholt was no more. And in the lee of a mountain, two had witnessed the cataclysmic destruction, in awe, wondering at such a calamity. Yet one gathered his wits and thought of what might follow: “Princess, we must flee, and now, cross-country,” said Thork, stepping toward the debris scattered across the ’scape, a slight limp in his stride, “for mayhap some Men at Andrak’s holt set out searching for us ere the fortress fell, and they are not bound by the Sun.”

“What would they want with us now, Thork?” asked Elyn.-Rach! She rubbed a tender elbow. Must have taken hurts in the crash. We’ll be sore in the morning. Massaging her arm as she went toward her pack, again she asked: “What would they want? Vengeance? Robbery? Duty? It hardly seems likely that such would carry out an order given by a dead Rutch, or Drōkh, or Guul, or even a dead Human commander, for surely all must have perished in the collapse.” Elyn took loose her bow from the pack, checking it for damage. Nought but a scratch that can be taken out with fat or oil, or by rubbing the sweetmeat of a nut in the mark. One of her arrows was snapped in twain, but the rest had survived.

“I know not why they would pursue,” Thork answered, “but if they do, then best we be gone when they arrive.” Thork, too, checked his weapons for breakage, especially the mechanisms of the crossbow: all was well.

Elyn shouldered her backpack, taking her bow in hand, quiver at her hip. “Thork, my saber lies a short way back down the road, run through a Guul, and I would have it.”

Thork nodded, slipping the glamoured hammer, the Kammerling, into the warhammer loop at his belt. Shouldering his pack, shield attached, he took up his axe and then faced southerly. “Then let us be gone, for the day is growing, and I would be away from here.”

They found Elyn’s blade some four hundred paces back the way they had come, alongside the steep bluff, the sword piercing a foul grey shirt amid a pile of filthy clothing; of the Guul, there remained only ashes scattering in the wind. Elyn took up the saber-My sire’s eyes gleamed and he smiled so, and could barely wait for me to unwrap it from the soft cloth. It was my eighteenth summer-and washed the blade clean with snow, then dried it on her own cloak and sheathed it. “Now, we can leave the road if that be the best strategy, though I think that will put us in the open valley, whereas this route conceals us along the slopes of these cold grey mountains.”

“Aye, that it does,” agreed Thork, “but the road is more likely to be ridden by any who escaped the fall.”

“If we cut cross-country, where are we bound? What line do we take?” To Elyn, all the mountains, though different in detail, were much the same in aggregate. Only Black Mountain to the south did she definitely recognize, and that was only because it was a great ebon beacon among the grey.

Thork turned, sighting through the peaks and crags. “Yon be the four fingers and the thumb that guided us into this range”-Thork pointed out the five crests-“and there lies the pass between. And there”-his hand and arm traced a route for Elyn’s eyes to follow-“save this road, be the easiest route past where Andrak’s holt once stood, though to cross the vale I deem that the most concealed way”-again his free hand traced a route-“lies yon.” And all the while, Elyn’s gaze followed where his hand pointed, agreeing with his assessment, and she marvelled at his quick eye for the lay of the land, his sense of slopes and flats and routes across them, and she was yet amazed by his uncanny Dwarven sense of direction, of location.

“Then let us be gone,” she said when he fell quiet. “You choose, for you are the one to guide-” Suddenly Elyn held up a hand for silence. “Hist! Riders come.” And the sound of hooves knelled, but whether far or near, they could not say, for the road curved out of sight, following the base of the bluff, the stone blocking sight and baffling sound. Quickly shedding her pack, Elyn dropped to the ground, placing her ear to the earth. “Five or six,” she said after a moment, “at a middling gait. A trot. Near. And something else do I hear: a tapping, as of signals.”

While Elyn listened to the vibrations within the ground, Thork looked about, searching for a place of concealment, and barring that, a narrow lieu that they could defend: nothing.

Even as she stood, rounding the bend some fifty yards hence came five riders-Men-and Elyn set arrow to string as Thork slipped from his backpack and hefted his axe.

The swart Men slowed their mounts to a walk, yet steadily came onward, all drawing tulwars but holding them horizontal across their saddles.

“Dök!” cried Thork, falling into his native tongue. “Halt!” he repeated, this time in Common.

The leader of the Men threw up his hand and called out-“Ghoda rhokho!”-in a language that neither Elyn nor Thork understood; it did not sound like the Slûk tongue, but instead something else. And the five reined to a halt. The leader said something low to his Men, then slowly stepped his horse forward while the others waited. Closer he came, until he was but paces away, his sword still gripped athwart withers. Thork raised his hand and again called “Halt!”-the rider stopping. The Man’s skin was brown with a yellowish cast, and his eyes had a cant to them. He wore a black moustache, long and lank, and a thin goatee hung down. His helm was steel, with fur trim and a point jutting upward. His armor was iron rings sewn on leather. And the Man’s tilted eyes looked first at Elyn’s red hair and her white features, then shifted to Thork, taking in his stature and forked beard.

“Kaija, Wolc,” said the rider in some form of greeting, his voice gutteral.

“Speak Common, Man,” growled Thork. “Else begone.”

The rider shook his head and pointed to his ear and mouth, displaying his tongue, then turned and called to one of his Men, motioning him forward.

He seeks to make us believe that he cannot understand, and calls for an “interpreter,” thought Elyn, yet I deem that they are some of Andrak’s spawn: brigands all. “ ’Ware, Thork,” she murmured, cocking a significant eye, first inclining her head slightly toward Thork, then toward the Man before them. Should the need arise, that one is yours.

Thork nodded once, the merest bob, indicating that he understood her unspoken signal, and Elyn wished that he had armed his crossbow, as well as having his axe available.

The second rider came forward, his horse at a trot, and Elyn’s heart beat faster, yet by no sign did she betray her state of alertness, calmly keeping her bow down, the arrow, though strung, pointing earthward.

And as the rider came upon them, instead of slowing he cried “Kha!” and kicked his horse in the flanks, his tulwar raised, the horse leaping ahead to run them down. The leader, too, spurred forward, shouting and raising his blade.

Thunn! Elyn loosed her arrow at the onrushing rider-Ssthok! — the shaft striking him in the chest, piercing him, pitching him from the saddle.

Schlak! Thork’s axe took the leader’s horse down, the animal screaming-“Damn! Damn!” shouted Elyn, hearing the mount’s cry as she set another arrow to string-and Thork leapt after the tumbling steed, his bloody axe cleaving through the rider ere the Man could gain his feet.

Kha! Kha! Onward hurtled the remaining three, and Elyn loosed another shaft, just missing as the Man who was her target ducked and shied his horse aside, his face pale with fear, galloping from the road and away, his comrades fleeing after, none willing to face death at the hands of these twain.

Elyn whirled. There was a free-running mount, a horse on the loose. Could she but capture it, then they could ride double, or switch off.

“Put that wounded animal out of its misery, while I catch up the other,” she bade Thork, her words sharp, setting out at a jog-trot after the loose steed.

“Beware knaves, Princess Elyn, they still be about!” Thork called after her. Without looking back, she raised her bow, indicating she had heard him. And he stepped toward the head of the thrashing, grunting, downed horse, drawing his dagger as he went.

When Elyn returned, riding the slain Man’s steed, Thork was rummaging through the saddlebags of the dead horse. He had uncinched the saddle and had pulled it free, in the event that it had a better seat than the one Elyn rode. The halter, too, was free, in case she would want to swap that as well. As she rode past, Elyn averted her eyes from the throat-cut steed, for somehow the sight of it was worse than that of the axe-chopped brigand. And her mount skitted and shied, snorting at the smell of blood. Yet she held it under control, riding to the nearby wall of the mountain.

Dismounting, she looped the reins about her pack frame, reasoning that it would be enough to hold the gelding, though still it gruntled and blew, nostrils flaring, trying to rid the air of the smell of blood.

“Did you have to axe the horse?” she asked finally. I am Vanadurin, and horses are our lifeblood. .

“It was that or get run through,” he grunted.

… yet they fall in battle just as do warriors.

Now Elyn turned to the grisly tasks at hand: robbing the dead. Whatever she and Thork found-coins, weapons, armor-could be used in trade on the way back. And she retrieved her arrow from the slain Man, sickened by the thuk it made when it pulled free, for she knew not when arrows would be needed again, and every shaft counted. Too, she went looking in the morning light for the shaft that missed, to no avail, for it had been shot full force at a shallow upward angle, and exactly which direction and how far it had flown was not easily judged.

Altogether, the plunder added up to two tulwars, a dagger, a long-knife, one helm, two ring-mail leather shirts, seventeen coppers, two sets of riding gear, two blanket rolls and miscellaneous field gear, none of it of great value, two pair of saddlebags-each with field rations and each with five days’ supply of oats for the horses-and one live gelding.

Elyn sorted through the riding gear, comparing it with that on the mount, choosing the better of the twain. Damn, we might have had two steeds to ride, had Thork been able to spare the horse. And she stripped the gelding of that which she would discard, replacing it with the other. And as she did so she carefully sized up the steed as well. This horse has been too long without work, stable-bound; it will be days ere he will bear what he should, run as he should, and endure.

“Thork, we cannot lade the steed with all our gear and ride double as well,” she said as she cinched on the better of the two saddles. “We’ll trade off, one walking, one riding.”

“Did you not listen to me back at the tower?” His voice now held an edge. “I will not ride horses.”

Elyn looked keenly at the Dwarf-He cannot be afraid of horses, for he showed no fear of Wind. Yet for some reason, he will not ride one, even though there is little difference between horse and pony. But now that I hearken back, I have never seen or heard of any Dwarf ever riding a horse-then she turned away, and did not mention it again.

Except for their weaponry and armor, they loaded the gelding with all their own gear and with that which they chose to take of the dead Men’s belongings. Axe in hand, Thork stepped down the road to the curve around the bluff and looked long and intently. He saw no one on the course, or in the empty land; even the surviving brigands who had fled north were no longer in sight. And so, deeming the roadway safe, they set out southerly under leaden skies, walking, leading the laden horse on a long tether, breaking their fast with a biscuit of crue split between them.

And as they passed down the way, Thork retrieved all three of his crossbow bolts from among the ashes of Sun-slain Spawn, while Elyn took up one of the Guul spears, to be used as a lance, should the need arise. Feeling the heft and balance of the bared pole arm-Had I my own spear, I would not use this thing. Spikes get lodged. Poison is a coward’s way. Had I my own, then would I fling this one to perdition. “Let us return to the Wizard’s holt when we come to Black Mountain. Get some of the things left behind: your hammer, my spear, a good saddle, more grain for the gelding. . ”

Thork nodded his agreement, and southward they trudged, the Dwarf still favoring a leg bruised in the chariot crash.

That night they camped in the bleak grey mountains as a light snowfall fluttered down. There was no wood to make a fire, and to stay warm they huddled together ’neath both their blankets, as well as one of the two they had taken from the slain brigands; the other blanket they draped over the gelding.

And there was a hammering deep within the stone as they slept, though only the horse sensed it.

The next morning, cold and sore, aching from the battering that they had taken from the chariot spill, bruises growing, they groaned awake, wishing that they had a fire so that they could have some hot tea. And as Thork stumped back from relieving himself: “Would that I had jumped from that careening rig when I first thought of it, rather than letting the thing hurl me to the ground.”

“You thought of jumping?” Elyn was surprised.

“Aye, to lighten the load so that you could escape the hounding Khōls,” came his answer, “but I decided that they would overtake anyway, and I thought of their spears and your unprotected back and knew I would serve you better within the chariot than without.”

A stricken look came upon Elyn’s face at his answer. Adon! He would sacrifice himself for me. The thought of him doing so caused her heart to clench, yet she maintained her poise. “That you did not jump was wise, for it will take your hand to wield the Kammerling ’gainst Black Kalgalath; my knowledge of warhammers is limited to a brief training session when I was but a youngling.” She took a bite of crue and chewed thoughtfully. “And had you leapt, then the mission ’gainst Black Kalgalath would have come to nought, and our two Nations would continue to war.”

Her mind following that line of thinking to its end, Elyn continued: “Yet mayhap you should teach me in the ways of the hammer in the days to come, for then should you again take it in your head to do something foolish, then still will the Drake fall.” Elyn paused, then: “Aye, Thork, train me; we double our chances of success: one can carry on should aught happen to the other.”

Thork nodded. “Aye, Princess, I can teach you; there will be time: the journey back is long, particularly if we cannot come across a pony for me.”

It took another day and a half for them to come to their destination upon Black Mountain, yet when they arrived, there was no iron gate standing at the dead end of the stone fold where they had last seen it. Yet throughout Thork’s entire being, there burned the path that they had taken, a path that his feet could not lose, and he knew that once here was a door. Yet no door, no portal, no gate loomed before them, only stern black stone frowning.

“Princess, I know that this is the place where stood the door. As a Châk, I cannot be mistaken. Aye, it has snowed since we left, yet this is the place. See the fold in the land. See the wall where once there was an iron gate. Faugh! This be another trick of the Wizards. If they wanted us back in, then the door would be here.”

“If there be a portal here, Thork,” responded Elyn, “then mayhap it exists only for those bearing a token of power, or those in dire need. . as were we when first you found it.”

“Just any token of power, nay,” said Thork, “for we bear the Kammerling in hand. Yet mayhap the silveron nugget was the key, or as you say, our dire need.”

They turned to leave, but as they started away, Thork faced about once more and again confronted the stone. “Adon,” he said firmly, yet the stone yielded not, no gate swung open. He stood a moment more, then said in Châkur, “Sol Kani, den vani dak belka, [Friend Wizards, for our lives we thank you,]” and turned and caught up to Elyn.

They went down the slope, Thork’s unerring steps leading the way, passing by the place where Digger had fallen, and farther down slope, where Wind had died; but the new-fallen snow was deep, burying the storm-slain below, showing no sign of their bodies. And tears blurred Elyn’s vision as down and down the wayfarers went, leaving Black Mountain behind.

It took six more days to come out through the col between thumb and forefinger, six days of trudging through snow in bleak grey mountains, five cold nights spent in the lee of stone boulders rimed with frost, meagerly sheltered ’gainst the icy winds. And each night, deep within the stone below a rhythmic hammering sounded, but the exhausted twain slept the sleep of the dead and heard it not.

And they came down the high saddle between the peaks and in among other, lower mountains, where at last there was wood. That night, for the first time in weeks, they built a fire. And Elyn cooked the small bag of beans that she had borne all the way from Andrak’s holt. They sopped their crue biscuits in the liquid of the soup, and it was as ambrosia to them.

Two days later, in midmorn, ere exiting the range, they came upon a mountain village, one that they had passed on the way in without stopping. Yet now they went up the snowy path and in, striding up the muddy street toward village center, for they needed provisions-food and other staples, and a pony for Thork, if one could be had-and dogs ran yapping at their heels, causing the gelding to snort and shy and skit. And they were not unexpected, for the villagers had seen them from afar, coming down the trail from the east, whence no one came but bandits, or perhaps demons. For had not the townsfolk heard the signalling deep within the stone this past week, heralding the arrival of something or someone, and what else would the earth talk of, if not demons moving about? And so the villagers peered out from their huts and hovels, wary of these strangers, holding children back from running to see, and scribing signs of warding in the air. And in the town square, braver than most, for it was expected of him, stood the portly headman of the village, ready to greet these strangers, though he, too, thought that perhaps they were demons with their odd white skins, not yellow; but even if they were, villagers need be polite to demons, for who knows what would happen, what they would do, if they were met with rudeness. And so he stood in his finest clothes-red robe with gold trim, black hat that announced his office, blue sash-his canted dark eyes watching as they approached. But once Heido had seen their hands, noting that each bore four fingers and a thumb, and their legs, noting that the knees bent forward and not backward, then he relaxed, for they could not be demons with such. . probably. . even though now that they came closer, he could see one of them had red hair and green eyes, while the other was squat with shoulders twice as broad as a Man’s should be. And he noted they wore armor, and bore sword and bow and spear and sling and black horn and long-knife and dagger and axe and hammer and shield, and thought that whether they were demons or not, one should not make them angry.

But he spoke not a word of their language; nor did they speak his. This was going to be most difficult, for clearly they had come to trade, and the village could profit, and gather in much fine goods, perhaps a wood axe or two, or hatchets, though he had not seen any; perhaps instead in their saddlebags they bore perfumes, amber, beads, thread and needles-though it was obvious that they had no bolts of cloth for sewing; perhaps, since they had walked, perhaps even the horse could be bargained for. Hence, it was important that he and they find a way to communicate, especially since he wanted the horse for his own-if they would trade it-for none of the villagers owned such a steed, neither here nor in Kaito, nor even in Béjan. To have such a great animal under him, well, that would add exceedingly to his standing among all the mountain dwellers.

And so Heido called for old Tai to attend him, for Tai had been a trader in his youth, learning parts of many tongues, travelling far from the mountains before he discovered the error of his ways. And while waiting for Tai to arrive, Heido escorted the two visitors into the village hall and sat them down at a small square mat and offered them tea, which they gratefully accepted. While outside, villagers gathered to crane their necks to see these people who, in spite of the earth signals, perhaps were not demons after all, and to examine the great steed, also probably not a demon, though from a respectful distance, just in case.

At last Tai came: old Tai, dressed in his yellow robe and black trader’s boots-no one else in the village had boots, not even the hetman-for Tai had reckoned that he would be needed for his knowledge of tongues. And he stroked his thin beard, looking as wise as he could, as he shuffled along the lane the villagers made for him through their ranks, to come into the building, where he took his place at the mat, and received the tea presented. And after he had taken the ceremonial sip, frail Tai dredged through his mind for tongues long forgotten, the words slow and rusty, his voice reedy, the strangers shaking their heads No until at last he came upon a patois used by some traders far to the sunset, a patois that the bearded one spoke.

[Welcome to Doku,] he said, sweeping his trembling arm in a gesture to indicate the entire village outside. [I am Tai, and this is Heido, our hetman.]

[I am Thork. My companion is Lady Elyn.]

There ensued a round of smiling, and of bobbing heads to one another.

[The weather is cold this time of year,] said Heido through Tai, choosing a safe subject. [Not a likely time for travellers.]

[Aye, cold,] agreed Thork, [and though we would rather be before our hearth, we are on a pilgrimage we could not avoid. Our journey ahead is a long one of many days, and we have come to your village to trade for that which we will need in the weeks before us.]

[Coming from the east as you did, you are fortunate to have reached our village at all,] said Heido, Tai translating, [for there are evil bandits living in a dark tower atop a black rock within the Grey Mountains.]

[No more, Heido,] responded Thork, [The black rock fell in an earthquake, and all the bandits perished.]

Tai’s eyes flew wide, and when he translated Thork’s words to Heido, the headman leapt to his feet and danced a jig. Then he stepped to the door and shouted out the news. And a babble of sound rose up as the villagers heard of this good fortune. Then, regaining his composure, he returned to the mat and took up his tea, once again staid and proper.

[You bear bright news, Bearded One, and my village will sing tonight,] said Heido through Tai.

“What is happening, Thork?” queried Elyn, sounds of rejoicing coming from outside. “Why the clamor in the street?”

“I told them about the fall of Andrak’s holt,” answered Thork. “Other than that, it is small talk, about the weather, about our journeying through the winter, about our need for provisions. The real bargaining hasn’t begun.”

[Your Woman interrupts her betters, Bearded One,] said Tai. [Is she always this rude?]

[Aye.] grunted Thork, not translating the words for Elyn.

[Then I think you must beat her with a stick,] opined Tai, [three times a day, till she learns her place.]

Thork choked on his tea, spluttering, covering his mouth with his hand while Elyn pounded him on the back, Thork concealing his smile, while pitying the fool that would try to lay a rod upon the Warrior Maiden.

Heido, who also had not been privy to an understanding of the words between Thork and Tai, said in translation, [Your Woman, I have never seen red hair on a Woman before]-he smiled at Elyn-[or on anyone, for that matter-just black, like mine. And green eyes. Hair like fire, and eyes like emeralds. Do you wish to trade her? She would fetch a high price, I am sure: a pony or two, at least.]

Thork made a negating gesture with his hand, No, Heido nodding his understanding, for surely a green-eyed redheaded Woman was special, in all ways.

And once again Elyn spoke up: “Thork, I am going mad, sitting here without comprehension. What are they saying now?”

“They have opened the bartering,” answered Thork, without telling her just what they had asked for, or what they had offered in exchange.

Tai dourly shook his head at this unseemly interruption, upset that this Woman of the Bearded One did not know her place.

[What have you to trade, Bearded One called Thork?] asked Tai. [Perhaps we can find a common ground. Have your Woman bring in the goods.]

“They have asked that you bring in what we would barter,” said Thork, not looking the Princess in the eye.

Elyn, already nettled that she could not understand a word, balked. “What do they think I am, a thrall?”

Exactly. “We do not know their ways, my Lady,” responded Thork.

“Send someone else,” sniffed Elyn, thoroughly miffed. “Or get them yourself.”

“Elyn, you must go, for if I do,” growled Thork, sotto voce, “then I will lose face before them, and we’ll not get what we need.”

“You can tell them for me to go to Hèl!” responded Elyn, now the proud Warrior Maiden. “Tell them to have one of their own go fetch the gear.”

“They are afraid, for the horse might be a daemon.” Now Thork’s own temper began to rise. Yet, what he would have done-

“Daemon, faugh!” But Elyn jolted to her feet and angrily strode from the room.

Till this moment, Tai had never seen her standing. [My, she is a tall one, that Woman of yours, Master Thork; you will need a big stick.]

Glumly, Thork nodded.

Minutes later she returned, flinging the goods to the floor: tulwars, ring-mail leather armor, dagger, long-knife, helm, flint and steel, and other such. . all the gear that they had taken from the slain brigands.

At sight of these goods, Heido’s face fell, for what did any villager need with these things of War? What good were they? They couldn’t be eaten. They would not keep one warm on a cold night. They wouldn’t bring a Woman to one’s bed. They could not be fondled and admired for their beauty. And the small items-flint and steel, copper pans, knives and such-though useful, well, they just weren’t perfumes, jade, beaded necklaces. .

But Tai, ever a trader, got to the business at hand, and so the haggling began in earnest, Elyn often interrupting to ask what was happening, what they were saying, and old Tai urging Thork to [Beat her with a big stick, three times a day, then will your Woman stop all this chatter.]

Finally, Elyn gave up, and stalked from the chamber and out into the street. Once more the villagers gave back before her, for not only was she armed and armored, she also had flaming hair, and green eyes, and white skin. And surely a green-eyed one with a red head and white skin must be a demon, and must be treated with deference, else the demon might get angry; then would her knees turn backwards and her hands become many-fingered and clawed, and she would grow and fire would come from her nose and her great mouth would be filled with sharp fangs and. .

Elyn walked about the village, past brick huts and wood, and some of mud and wattle. And wherever she went, she was followed by villagers, remaining at a discreet separation. And she stared off into the distance, sighting along the vale through these low mountains, back toward the way they had come-grey ramparts rising up-and toward the way they were going-mountains falling to foothills and plains. Yet in the end, she came back into the square, to sit upon a log by the village well. And even though it was the afternoon-time to dip water, none came forward to do so.

After a long while, someone brought Elyn a bowl of rice, and a pair of small sticks, and a clay cup of goat’s milk, setting it down a goodly distance from her, then beckoning her forward while backing away. Elyn smiled when she saw, and nodded in gratitude, receiving bows in return from every one in the square. And when the Princess discovered that it was food, she gratefully dug in, with her fingers-What are these sticks for? — wondering why they had brought no spoon.

And once more the people drew back, for surely it must be an uncouth demon who eats with her fingers as would a child.

After the meal, Elyn strode about again, while villagers rushed to the well with buckets. She found a stable filled with ponies, their hair grown long with winter shag; and she led the gelding into the shelter, unsaddling and watering him and feeding him some grain. And while the steed munched upon oats, Elyn rubbed the beast down with handfuls of straw, then took the currycomb from a saddlebag and combed the knots from the mount’s winter coat, the shag thick and stubborn; but Elyn persisted, as she had done every evening on the trail.

She had just finished when Thork and Heido and Tai came in, and still angry, Elyn stomped out, returning to the square.

Perhaps an hour later, the three traders crossed the square and went back into the central building.

Again, someone brought the redheaded demon a meal, cooked snow peas, once more without a spoon, and now the mysterious small sticks were missing as well.

The Sun slid down the remainder of the sky and began to settle behind the mountains; and in the winter twilight, Thork came unto the porch with Heido and Tai. There ensued a round of bowing, and the two villagers bustled off into the gloaming, Heido waddling, Tai hobbling, bowing to Elyn as they passed, smiles upon their faces.

Thork motioned the Princess to him, holding the door for her as she stepped in. The chamber smelled of spices and tea, and a fresh pot simmered upon the small clay brazier, glowing charcoal within.

“They will be bringing us food, Princess,” said Thork, “and pads for us to sleep upon, and blankets.”

Elyn was no longer angry, having had all afternoon to set her rude treatment aside. Besides, Thork was right: they didn’t know the ways of these villagers, and she had finally called to mind an old Jordian saying: When in Rhondor, be Rhondorian. “What did you get from them? — The trading, I mean.”

Thork sat down and poured two cups of tea, motioning Elyn to sit and take one. “Two pack ponies, two riding, four in all, each with tack and gear. Four weeks of supplies: rice, beans, tea, bacon, jerky, dried fish, onions, salt, hardtack, spiced honey, and the like for us; and oats and barley for the ponies. And oil for your lantern to light your way if we should again come into the dark.”

Elyn’s eyes widened in amazement, and she set her tea aside and clapped her hands, “Hai!” a smile on her face. “Thork, you are a marvel! All of that just for two tulwars, a dagger and long-knife, a helm, some second-rate armor, and. .” In the corner, heaped in a pile, was all the gear that she had brought in for trading. “. . and. .” Her gaze narrowed in suspicion. “Just what did you give them?”

“They had no use for the battle gear,” said Thork, clearing his throat.

“What did you barter away?” Elyn’s voice was sharp.

“The horse, Princess, and all its-”

“You gave away my horse?”

“Nay, Princess. I didn’t give it away. I traded-”

“For a pony?”

“For four ponies and four weeks of-”

“Gods, Thork, Harlingar do not ride ponies! Not even as children!”

When the servants brought the two demons their sleeping mats and blankets and evening meals, they sat on completely opposite sides of the room, glaring daggers at one another; and Haisu, Josai, and Meia quickly set the trays and blankets and mats down and scuttled out backwards, bowing and scraping as they went, the three sisters wanting to be far away before the two ired demons changed.

The next morning, armed and armored, Elyn and Thork set forth from the village, riding sturdy mountain ponies, sitting upon saddles covered with sheepskin, two pack ponies trailing behind upon long tethers, bearing their kits and provisions and the brigands’ War gear: two tulwars, a dagger, a long-knife, a helm, and two leather ring-mail shirts. Elyn, still angry, glared straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge even the presence of the headman riding alongside upon a fine gelding, a great smile upon his yellow face. Old Tai hobbled out as they passed his hut, and he handed Thork a smooth, supple birch stick, some four feet long, the old Man’s head bobbing up and down knowingly. Thork took it and mumbled his thanks, tucking it through the thongs holding the blanket roll behind his saddle. And down the mountainside they rode, the villagers behind heaving a great sigh of relief, for the demons appeared to be leaving, and they had not changed a single time; and to be rid of them before they took it in their heads to do so, well, that was certainly a blessing in itself. Of course, there was still to be that demon horse among them, now ridden by the hetman, the brave, respectful, perhaps foolish hetman, who followed the white-skinned, green-eyed, redheaded, angry demon and the squat, broad, bearded, sad-eyed demon, all the way to the foot of the village trail, where he stopped and waved good-bye as they rode onward. But then Heido turned and spurred his great steed back up the path, the gelding grunting beneath his portly load; and with cries of terror and distress, the villagers scattered to all points, fleeing into their huts.

Throughout the long morning the two rode in silence, dismounting and walking now and again to give the rugged little mountain ponies a breather, and stopping once each hour to water them or to feed them a mouthful or two of grain.

And as the Sun passed into the zenith, Elyn was no longer angry, accepting instead that she must look the fool, perched as she was upon a horseling, her long legs dangling down, picturing it in her mind, picturing what it would look like if it were Mala instead, and suppressing laughter. And looking at Thork’s back as he rode before her, pack pony trailing behind-Ah, my rugged, honorable Dwarf, I cannot remain angry at you. You struck a better bargain by far than I could have hoped for. You even thought to get me lantern oil for the dark.

When they broke for their noon meal, Elyn smiled at Thork and straightforwardly apologized, and he heaved a great sigh of relief, though he did not cast away the stick.

That night, as the two slept, they did not see the great pair of crystal eyes peering into their camp from the dark.

The next day as they moved westward, Elyn said, “I remind you, Thork, that I must train in the wielding of the hammer. I but barely know how to hold one, for I specialized in the saber, in the bow, in long-knife and quarterstaff and lance and spear and sling.”

“Chariot, too,” laughed Thork, adding to her long list.

“Ah yes, chariot too.” Elyn smiled, thinking of Ruric. Ho, lass, the chariot too?. . toys raced during the midyear fest. . Warrior Maid charioteers be a thing o’ the past.

And so it was that Thork began training Elyn in the use of the Kammerling. While they rode he discussed with her the strategies and tactics in using a hammer; and during the times they stopped to rest the ponies, he stepped her through slow drills with the Kammerling, showing her rudimentary offensive and defensive moves and positions. She was amazed at the smooth feel and heft of the glamoured weapon, its touch and balance belying its timeworn, damaged look. Elyn had briefly trained in hammer battle under Ruric’s watchful eye-Come on, lass, ’tis not that heavy-yet her major preparation then had been on how to counteract the mauls-Aye, that be the right o’ it. Let it swing past, then cut and thrust-rather than how to employ them in combat. But now Thork began to show her the other side of hammer warfare, and started her upon exercises to perfect.

“We need build your arm strength, Princess,” mused Thork that evening, as they returned to the fire. “Wielding a hammer takes power as well as quickness, else the weight will drag you down.”

And toward evening they passed through a high-walled canyon filled with deep drifts-for it was yet the cold season-coming down out of the last of the mountains and out upon the snowy flats, miles of winter forest and open plains and rolling hills ahead ere they would reach the foothills of the Grimwall, and more miles through that range before coming unto Dragonslair.

And behind, on the canyon wall high above, stone quietly fissured and a crack eased open as the two rode past unheeding. And when they had ridden on, the rift closed, the cleft sealed, the stone was once more unblemished, and a distant knelling faintly echoed through the deep rock.

And so the days passed, the duo ever moving westward, Elyn training in hammer as they went, and building up the strength in her arms.

And each evening, as she curried the ponies, singing softly to them, Thork set up camp and kindled the fire and fixed the meals. And he would sit and stir the stew or soup, or-had he or Elyn brought down small game by bow or sling-cook meat above the flames. And Thork would listen entranced, catching glimpses of her face and eyes and graceful movements as she stepped among the steeds, caring for them. At times he would have to look away as she came to the fire, her beauty all too bright for his eyes. And she for her part watched him wielding the hammer as he illustrated a point, seeing his strength and quickness; or she listened as he fervently explained some detail, and saw his intensity and intelligence, and his rough-hewn gentleness. And she would sit at the fire and watch as he shaped wood with a knife, his fingers sturdy and capable, carving tiny animals to while away the evening, or making a flute that neither of them could play, though the notes were true.

And occasionally, while setting up camp or taking a meal, they would touch one another, and shy away from the contact.

She is not Châkian.

He is not Man.

And slowly, westward they went, at times making little progress, for it was winter and the snow deep.

They were caught in a blizzard for three days, and camped out in the shelter of a pine forest. The nights became nearly unbearable, the temperature falling to drastic depths; and fully clothed, they slept together under the same blankets for warmth, arms clasped about one another. Yet this gave them pause, for blood ran hot even though the past reached down through time to stay them, honor and tradition barring the way. And so when they could, when the weather turned for the better, when the nights were not as frigid, once again they slept apart.

But it was at this time of togetherness in the night, under the same blankets, arms about one another, when they were talking most quietly, their words soft upon the darkness, that suddenly Thork fell silent, cocking his head to one side, as if trying to hear an elusive sound. “Hist” he whispered and pressed his ear to the frozen ground, listening a moment, then motioning Elyn to do the same.

Thinking perhaps he heard oncoming danger, pursuit, attack, Elyn placed her own ear to the earth. It was not the sound of hooves, not the sound of a chase or hunt she heard, but rather a faint, deep knelling, rhythmic, patterned, as if it were someone delving, or signalling.

“This is the same as I heard just after Andrak’s spire fell,” she whispered. “What is it, Thork?”

“Châkka call it Utruni signalling,” he answered, “though we are not certain at all that it is a sound made by the Stone Giants.

“Listen to its pattern, Princess. To me it is familiar in its cadence, as hammer-signalling through the stone, though I cannot read it.”

Now Elyn remembered the conversation they had had as they stood before the tapestry within the Wizard’s holt of Black Mountain. And in her mind rose the vision of the great being with the jewels for eyes.

“They say that evil flees when the Earthmasters are about,” murmured Thork. “Though I think that is but an eld Châkia’s tale.”

Long they listened, strangely comforted as the signalling went on, eventually the two falling asleep. And eld Châkia’s tale or not, they slept soundly, as far below the faint knelling continued throughout the night, a deep heartbeat within the earth. Finally, as dawn approached, the tapping fell silent, the distant sounds stopping at last.

Weeks passed, winter deepening, as they slowly crossed the silent land by day, nought but the wind shushing o’er the open space. Yet every night as they listened to the earth, the tapping continued in the depths far below, as if the signals followed them.

At last they came to a small town, where Thork traded the brigands’ armor and weaponry and Elyn’s pony and tack for a chestnut horse with bridle and saddle, and more supplies for the trail. And when they set out westward, Elyn rode proudly, a high Warrior Maiden once again, though it affected not at all the undercurrents running between the twain.

And there came an evening when Elyn sat by the fire, poking at it with a stick, and she asked Thork what the birch rod was for. When he told her the full tale, of old Tai’s advice, she smiled and shook her head. “It was best that you said nought when we were in that village,” she said with good humor, “for I deem I would have taken the rod to him.”

“Aye, and to me too, I think,” added Thork, laughing.

After long minutes, “Adon, but we are a good team, Thork,” declared Elyn. “Mayhap after we slay Black Kalgalath and stop the War”-her words admitting to no possibility of defeat, no way of not accomplishing their sworn goal-“divide the treasure, and bring peace between our two Folk, mayhap we should take to the road as sellswords. . or in my case a sellsword, in your case a sellaxe.” Elyn fell silent for a moment, then added: “Ah, Thork, what I am trying to say is that I do not want this to end.”

Thork saw that there were tears in her eyes, and his own heart swelled with an emotion that threatened to overwhelm him, and he stood and walked to the extent of the firelight. And after a while, Elyn joined him, standing at his side. “Me too, Princess,” he said at last, his voice hoarse, his hand reaching out. “I do not want it to end either.”

And they stood beneath the crystal skies with the myriad bright stars wheeling above, staring out across the softly glinting snow, looking into the night, her hand in his.

Westerly they rode, along the trail they had followed to the east, Thork unwinding their journey, crossing the same wilderness, wending among the same hills and forests, passing through the same hamlets and by the same farms and cottages as they had passed in the opposite direction. And they took the opportunities to quarter in inns and eat large meals and take hot baths using soap, or to stay in haylofts if it was a crofter’s place where they stopped for the night, or to sleep in cabins if a hunter’s cote they shared.

At times the snow fell gently about them; at other times the wind was cruel, forcing them to seek shelter; and there were days when the Sun glared down upon the snowfield, threatening their sight had they not worn the slitted shades. Yet there were also days when the world seemed soft and yielding, and all appeared in harmony; but even on these most gentle days, still the snow lay across the land and the way west was slow.

Even so, the tapping deep within the stone followed them, keeping pace with their journey.

And Elyn’s training at the hammer continued, her skill improving dramatically, though she could not match Thork’s.

As winter rose out of its depths and stepped toward spring, at long last the wayfarers came unto the borders of the Wolfwood, and Greylight and the Draega escorted them through. But of the Wolfmage they saw nothing, though at times a great dark Silver Wolf could be seen in the distance, pacing them far aflank.

And once again, when the two rode forth from the marge of that wood, Greylight and his pack lifted their muzzles to the sky and long lornful howls filled the air as the Draega sang out their songs of calling, or keened their dirges of mourning.

Long did Elyn and Thork ride across the wide land ere the knells of the Silver Wolves became too faint to hear.

Ere reaching the margins of the Khalian Mire, Thork swung somewhat northerly of west, aiming for the Grimwall, his track bearing them above the great bog, for now they were heading toward Dragonslair.

Finally they came into the mountains, slopes covered by pine, though the white-capped crests were bare, Thork leading them through deep vales as they talked about the future, about becoming sellswords, about living a dream. And now there were days, when the Sun shone bright, that water would cascade down from snowmelt and dash through the evergreens, filling the air with its sound. And on the sunward side of the lee of a boulder, Thork showed Elyn a snowflower, perhaps the first of the year, its blue blossom bravely thrusting out from a shallow layer of snow, petals fluttering in the chill breeze; and she gazed upon this promise of life renewed, tears springing to her eyes; and hand in hand they looked at it long ere moving onward.

As they passed deeper into the forested mountains, the deep-earth tapping, the signalling, grew louder, as if coming closer, much closer. At times, they would hear stone splitting, as if walls above fissured, yet when they looked up through the trees, they saw nought but unmarred rock upon the nearby mountain walls.

There came a day they topped a rise and curved about the face of a bluff, and there in the near distance before them towered a mountain unlike all others: roughly conical it was and dark, and jaggedly truncated, as if its peak had been wrenched off; and wisps of steam and occasional smoke curled up from its broken crest.

And as the echo of cleaving stone sounded about them, Elyn and Thork each took a deep breath and glanced at one another.

At last they had come unto Dragonslair.