Dark One Rising (33 page)

A few minutes passed, then the echoing sound of wooden pulleys rang through the mountain pass, and the gates finally started to open. The guard who had left appeared again and motioned the party inside. He led them across an open courtyard to an archway built into the mountain itself.

“You’ll be required to dismount now. The horses be too tall with rider for ye to enter safely. There will be some lads to take yer mounts and get ‘em watered and fed. They will bring your belongin’s to the rooms you will be usin’ for the duration of your stay.”

Brogan nodded and dismounted. The other men followed suit. When they were all down, the guard led them under the archway and into the mountain. It took Brogan a long time to adjust his eyes to the gloom. Unlike the dwarves, he was unaccustomed to spending time in the dark. Dwarves had eyes like cats, able to see in the dark tunnels of the mines, and at great distance, but Brogan preferred the sunlight. The dank tunnels and musty smell of the mountain caves made him shiver. There were sconces on the walls every few footsteps that illuminated the halls just enough to be able to walk steadily and see the ground before you, but it was still too dark for Brogan’s taste, and a bit eerie. There were also stories of nasty creatures who lived inside the darkest hidden reaches of the tunnels, creatures that ate the flesh of the dead. Brogan shivered at the thought.

They walked a way down the hall, deeper into the mountain he would guess, before the guard stopped before a door. It was a large wooden double door, at least eight foot in height, and it was carved with a beautiful landscape scene. Brogan took the few moments he had before the door opened to study the artistry of the work. It was a depiction of a mountain range, with a wide valley between the peaks. There was a stream flowing down the mountain through the valley which ended up in a meadow lake. There were trees and flowers and even a few birds and butterflies scattered throughout the rendition. It was most impressive, as well as the massive door it was carved into.

The doors opened. Brogan turned to the men. “Bort is with me, the rest of you should stay out here, I think, until we know if all is well.”

The men nodded and stood outside in the hallway as Brogan and Bort followed the guard into the room, the doors closing behind them. This room was no less impressive than the door had been, but it was much brighter than the corridor was. Brogan blinked a few times to readjust his eyes to the light. It was an enormous cavern, with tall wooden beams holding the ceiling and carved wooden pillars going from the floor all the way to the roof. The floor was marbled, the walls paneled in a rich smelling wood. It was quite a difference from the natural tunnel that led them here. There were marble statues throughout the room, making a semi-circle around a dais at the front of the room. The statues were past clan leaders of the most powerful of the dwarf families. The statues were not large by man’s standards, about seven foot each, but, to a normal size dwarf, they were immense.

The guard led them to the front of the room, where another dwarf sat. He was slightly taller than most, with dark brownish red hair and matching beard. His hair was loose down his back, and his clothes were fancier. He had on black pants, but his shirt was under a lavish red velvet vest with emeralds lining the v-neck. The buttons were black onyx, and his shiny boots gleamed in the bright light of the cavernous room. He was smiling at them as they neared, and he quickly dismissed the guard. He sat upon a chair with furs covering it, and his hands were resting on the arms of it.

Brogan bowed to him, then prostrated himself on one knee, Bort following. They remained on their knees, a sign of respect for the clan’s highest honored leader, until he told them to rise.

They stood and waited for Dagon to speak. The silence in the large room seemed more ominous. “Welcome to Yarden, gentlemen, home of the Daiki tribes. It seems the king has a long and vivid memory. I would’ve hated for him to have to leave the warm halls of the Keep to travel a road such it is to reach us just to settle a debt.”

Brogan smiled. “I’m glad you felt that way. I wasn’t looking forward to returning to him with nothing to say, except that an overprotective guard scared us away. Make me look bad, make him slightly put out.”

Dagon laughed deep. “Whom has His Majesty trusted with this important travel?”

“I’m Brogan Knoll; this is my well appointed guide, Bort Waldron.”

“I’m happy to meet you both. You must excuse Borga; he’s not much in the way of wit, but he’s a strong warrior and keeps our gates protected better than anyone before him.”

“Why the extra precautions, Dagon? Not many have traveled this high into the Danstrom’s passes. What is it you’re anxious about?”

“We used to have safer borders, but lately… there are strange things about. The higher passes are still lightly traveled, but the Zairn Pass itself has been a hive of activity of late. The miners in the lower passages have been witnessing disturbing things. Dark things seem to be making their way freely between realms, and they use the Pass for quicker movement.”

“What kind of things?”

“I have no name for them. I was hoping you could tell me.”

“That is partly why we have come, Dagon. There is news all the way from Ashlan to the northern cities near the border, of troops coming through and recruiting men into their ranks. Fallon has grown more powerful in the last few years, and the king feels he is preparing a strike. He has already manipulated King Randor into relinquishing control of his accounts to him and his financial advisors. He’s been using the money to fund an army of mercenaries to destroy any that oppose him. He has also paid the giants, and they’ve joined him as well. They’re moving this way.”

Dagon rubbed his chin. “I did hear a couple of accounts of groups of giants moving through the pass. I can’t believe Fallon would try to infiltrate the province right under Randor’s nose.”

“Prince Kevaan is aware of the hold Fallon has on his father. Fallon has a creature called a wraith, and he controls Randor’s decisions. Kevaan cannot stop the influence he has, but he has been able to stave off the creature from controlling him. King Dainard has asked us to come to you for help. If Fallon plans what he suspects, then no one will be safe from his control. He wants a throne for himself. Aaralyn is first. Azlyn will be next. The provinces will need the help of all the troops they can enlist in order to fight against Fallon and hope to vanquish him.”

“We’re away from most of the stories and gossip, but occasionally we have to travel down the mountain for supplies not available up here. I’ve heard stories about this, but I wasn’t eager to believe it.”

“Believe it. Fallon’s power is growing and spreading like a plague. If we don’t band together, then he’ll be able to thwart us, and all the kingdom will fall. If he takes over Aaralyn and Azlyn, you won’t be safe from his power even up here. We must stand together.”

“I understand. This isn’t the time to discuss this in detail. It’s late; a storm is on the way, and it will be big. The mountain gates must be closed until it’s done. Up here it can subside in a few hours or make noise for days. I’m afraid you’re stuck here until it blows over.”

“I felt the tickle of it when we reached your border.”

“The pass is dangerous enough when the weather is peaceful, but a storm up here is nothing to take lightly. You’ll be safer in here than out there trying to make your way down the mountain.”

“I agree. I would never dream of trying to move around up here in a storm.”

“Smart man. Come, I will make sure your accommodations are comfortable. We’ll eat a warm meal, drink hearty ale, and converse. In the morning, we’ll convene in the conference hall to talk more. Hopefully the weather Gods will smile on you, and it will blow over by the morning. I would hate for His Majesty to wait too long.”

“Here, here.”

“It’s settled then. Come, I’ll get someone to show you to your rooms. You can freshen up and someone will get you when dinner is ready. I would recommend staying put until called for. You can get lost easily in these corridors. I’d hate to lose the king’s own messenger.”

Brogan thought about getting lost inside the closed in walls and shuddered. “The thought scares me more than you could ever realize, Dagon. I am a seaman, used to open air and wide spaces. I’ll leave the crawling around inside the tunnels to you and your clansmen.”

He laughed openly and heartily. He stood from his chair on the dais and slapped Brogan hard on the back. “I think I like you, Brogan. I think we shall get along nicely.”

Brogan and Bort both smiled at him and followed him from the room.

***

The storm hit the mountain with a fury Brogan had never seen. The dark clouds shrouded the mountain with blackness so thick, you could not see down into the valley, and the winds howled loudly, echoing inside the tunnels and corridors of the city. He could hear the rain when he was close to the entrance, but in the deep reaches of the mountain, all was quiet. He hoped for a storm like he was used to at sea, all noise and brutality for awhile, then waning soon after; like a lion to a kitten. Dagon was not so certain. He said that the storms were getting worse, strange storms of unusual power and length, caused, he believed, by whatever strange power Fallon had obtained in the last few years. A power that seemed to be affecting everyone. No one was unscathed from his vengeance.

Brogan and Bort, and the men in their party, were sitting around a large comfortable table, a warm fire blazing in the seven foot hearth. They had filled themselves on hearty stew and were working on tankards of sweet ale as they talked.Dagon was a lively fellow with an agreeable sense of humor, and Brogan found himself liking him more as the evening went on. As dinner progressed they found themselves talking about the past and how each had come to know the king. Dagon was sprawled out on one chair, his feet propped up on another, leaning back and making smoke circles in the air with his pipe.

Brogan was sitting in the chair across from him and was also smoking. He spoke first. “I’ve known Dain since he was a young man, no more than thirteen. I was in the king’s guard, had been for many a year. On my day off, I was in town, hanging out with other soldiers from around the kingdom, drinking and telling war stories like soldiers do. A seedy looking character came into the tavern and started causing trouble for some of the men. He was saying foul things and getting some of the younger men riled. He and another hot-head got into a brawl. There was stuff flying everywhere, chairs and mugs, and the serving girls were running off screaming; it was quite the mess. I stepped into the middle of it before it got someone killed.”

“What happened?”

“Someone got killed. The stranger pulled the dagger from my belt and stabbed the solider in the gut, flaying him open right there in the middle of the tavern. Before I could grab the guy, he was gone, just like a magician; poof. I sent a couple of my men after the guy while I tended to the dying one. There was nothing could be done. I called for the surgeon, but before he could get across town, the man was gone. When the constable came in, he saw me standing over the dead man, dagger on the floor beside him. He accused me of killing him. Now there were plenty of witnesses in the place that night, but all of a sudden they all went mute. It was my dagger, so naturally I had been the one to kill him. Only one guy in the tavern said what he saw, a lie of course, and it did not bode well for ole Brogan. “It all happened so fast,” he said. “There was a struggle,” he said. “My dagger ended up in his gut,” he said.”

“What about your men?”

“They came back two hours later. They ran up one side of the city to the other. No sign of the guy; disappeared; poof. No suspect to be found. My dagger, my crime. I was to be beheaded in the city square three nights hence, no trial. Colwyn wanted to send a message that crime would not be tolerated, especially the crime of murder. The fact that it was a decorated and respected officer in his ranks didn’t change his mind. What was done, was done.”

“King Colwyn was a bit self righteous for my taste. A good king, fair and just, but at times a bit too naïve when it came to what was best for the kingdom. I think Dain is on his way to being great, however.”

“I agree.”

“So what happened? Your head looks to be attached to me.”

“Dain heard about the incident and came to see me. He asked me what happened and asked me the names of all the soldiers that were there that night. He talked to them and got their side of the story. I guess he felt that a decorated officer such as me would be telling the whole truth. He believed me and told his father so. Only thirteen, too. My execution was stalled until more proof could be gathered. It took days for Dain to convince him, but as the evidence on my behalf piled up and the testimonies of my fellow soldiers came in, Colwyn resigned to setting me free. I didn’t, however, retain my station. I was free of death but would no longer be in the kings guard. Innocent or not, I was to be an example. I became a sailor after that to pay the bills. I lost my wife and daughter out of the deal too, but I’m alive today because the son of the king believed in me. That is why I came. I owe him my life. How about you?”

“I, too, owe him, and I’m not just talking money. He saved my butt a few times too over the years, before I became clan leader. The last one he’s referring to is when I got myself into a bit of trouble with some mercenaries outside the coastal town of Pembroke, must be six years now. I was drinking in a tavern when I heard a guy offering sixty silver pieces to anyone who would take a load of ship parts, or so I thought, over the Danstroms and into Kieran and deliver them to a guy who owned a ship repair yard there. It was mid-winter, and no one but a dwarf offers to travel through the mountains in the snow. Having familiarity with the mountains and all the passes through them, I volunteered. The man said he’d pay half now, then the other half would be paid by the receiver of the load. I agreed. Hired myself two men, a pack horse, and bought enough food for the trip over the range. The men I hired were not hardy enough for the trip though, and I lost both of them before we even reached the top. I managed to make it, but before I could get into town and deliver the goods, a group of Bounty Hunters accosted me. Said I stole the merchandise. Apparently, the load was not ship parts at all, but stolen weapons and war supplies from a rich baron’s estate in Amaris. While I was making my way across the mountain range, the man who hired me was questioned, then squealed to save his own skin, telling the Bounty Hunters it was I who robbed the lord. One of those Bounty Hunters was Alekzand’r Morgan, who I’m sure you know.”