The Bones of the Earth (The Dark Age) (53 page)

The Kobold in the centre of the group was the oldest. His silver beard hung over his ample belly, and he had tied it with a silver ribbon and then tucked the tuft at the end into his belt. He peered carefully at the three from Constantinople over his long, hooked nose. “And who are they?” he asked in a voice old as the mountain, yet powerful and clear.

Austinus stepped forward. “Greetings, Nich Reegleth. We seekers of knowledge …”

“
This is the Hall of Speaking of the People of Knowledge, and none but the People may speak here without invitation,” the head Kobold said curtly. “
Niech Riagleth
is my title, not my name. In your terms, it means in your terms ‘first speaker of the many.’ My name is Goldemar.

“
This realm has been hidden from your kind for centuries, and we are loathe to admit any of the race of men. At one time, you would have been killed at your first sight of this hall.” The other Kobolds on the dais nodded and muttered assent in their weird language.

“
But these other people…” Austinus began, gesturing toward Miro and the Sklavenic company.

“
I have already told you to be silent! These people are our allies, albeit reluctantly,” said Goldemar. “But I owe you no explanations. Time is growing short, and I will not decide your fate. It is bound up with the blade and the Eye, and I leave you in the hands of the King of the Mountain. We are bound thither now.” He rose, and the rest of the Kobold council, Krum Chimmek’s company and their prisoners followed him to a semi-circular recess carved smoothly into the far wall of the chamber. The circle was completed by a narrow curved gap on the floor, leaving a separate piece of smooth granite as wide as twice Javor’s height. The Koblolds stepped onto the circular stone, then turned to face away from the wall; the Sklavenes stepped onto it, pushing the three Gnostics and Javor. Ingund stepped on daintily and tried, but failed, to stand exactly in the centre. Stuhach then stepped onto the circle, and all the men and Koblolds got as far from it as they could.

Goldemar nodded and the humans all lurched a little as the circle began to rise smoothly with a slight hum. The semi-circular recess in the wall became a perfectly round hole in the ceiling. The Sklavenes and Stuhach were calm, but Ingund’s eyes were wide, and she looked as if she were trying very hard not to be sick. The Kobolds were silent.

As they rose, the hum echoed louder and the air grew colder. After a few minutes, Austinus thought he could see light far overhead. Finally, the platform slowed and stopped smoothly just as they emerged into the open air.

They were on a wide plateau on the side of a mountain. A chilling breeze blew from the snow-covered slopes on one side. A sheer cliff dropped on the other side. And in between was a magnificent hall, obviously human-made, as big as any basilica in Rome or Constantinople. It was covered in white marble and its roof gleamed silver in the light of the rising sun. At the front were tall doors of oak bound with bronze, and the back seemed to merge with the mountainside so that no one could see where manmade walls ended and natural rock began.

“
What is this place?” asked Malleus, gaping.

“
The hall of the self-styled Mountain King, Ingolf,” Goldemar answered. He led the group toward the high doors, which gleamed in the rising sun. Stuhach was trying to stay in the shadows, shading its hideous face with its enormous hands.

“
Let us get inside quickly,” scraped its voice. Javor could see that the sunlight was weakening him, maybe even hurting him in some way.

Ingund seemed to have recovered her composure. She tilted her nose upward and stepped in front of the group, striding toward the hall. “Father!” she called. “I have come home!”

“
Wait—the sun is not rising, it’s
setting!
” Malleus exclaimed. It was true; the last rays of the sun fell below the outlines of the mountains in the west and the gleam left the hall’s roof.

“
How long were we on the
bog sciopa
?” Austinus asked.

“
Half a night, and all the following day,” Krum Chimmek answered. “Although you did not realize it, you slept soundly during your journey
.
Worry not—you were safe in our hands. Hospitality toward our guests is one of our strictest mores.”

Part of the cliff detached from the mountain side and took on a gigantic humanoid shape, three times Javor’s height. Its every step shook the ground. Ingund ran behind Miro.

“
Who goes there?” it asked in a voice like thunder echoing in the canyons below.

“
Goldemar and the
Yon-Sakathe
, the People of Knowledge, are fulfilling our bargain with ‘King’ Ingolf,” answered the
Niech Riagleth.
“We are here at the agreed-upon time.”

The stone-giant opened one of the great doors to a spectacular royal citadel that surpassed the Roman Emperor’s. A double row of gilded columns held up the vast barrel-vaulted, blue-painted ceiling. Between the pillars, the light from torches in gilded posts shone in hundreds of jewels embedded in the walls. Heavy tapestries showed battle scenes and a wise king.  The floor was the smoothest marble of black, grey, white and brown.

Ingund ran into the hall, crying “Daddy!” At the end of the hall stood a dais of shining black rock. Seven steps led up to its top, where sat a high oak throne, encrusted with gold and silver, and with gems of white, blue, red and green.

It was empty.

Krum Chimmek marched to the foot of the steps and came to a ritual halt. The other Kobolds spread in a double line. They stood at attention, waiting for something.

Miro and his warriors stood by, uncertain. Ingund peered toward the back of the hall. And behind them all stood Stuhach, its face unreadable.

The great door closed with a boom; its echoes were replaced by a brassy fanfare from the back of the hall, clashing of metal and heavy footsteps. From the shadows of the hall emerged a troop of soldiers in full armour. They wore pointed iron helmets decorated in silver, heavy mail tunics and black trousers. Each carried a shield on his left arm and held a long sword pointed up in front of his face. They marched out and stopped in front of the dais, facing the visitors.

Behind them, a herald in a long black and white robe announced “Ingolf, King of the Mountain and the Ostrogoth people!”

Ingund bowed elaborately, sweeping her arms back. Krum Chimmek, Goldemar and the other Kobolds bowed respectfully. Miro and the other warriors stood to attention. The four from Constantinople did not know what to do.

The King was a tall, handsome young man with long legs, long brown hair and a thick moustache, wearing simple blue and white tunic and trousers, and high, soft-looking brown boots. A red cloak was wrapped over one shoulder, held in place with a great golden brooch decorated with an amber gem. Beside him in clothes of exactly the same design was a young boy who could have been no more than seven years old. He had big blue eyes and curly dark-brown hair. He was almost a copy of Ingolf.

Ingund threw her arms around the King. He embraced her and kissed her forehead.

“
Ingund, I cannot tell you how happy I am to see you again, unhurt. Are you well?”

“
Yes, father,” she said, sobbing. “I have succeeded in my mission!”

“
Good, wonderful!” Ingolf said, but he did not look very pleased. “Your mother will be very proud.” He extricated himself from Ingund’s arms, and took his young son to the top of the dais.

“
Daughter, Miro, I am very glad to see you return to my hall, unscathed. And greetings to you, Goldemar and the People of Knowledge. But where is Stanislaw? And who are your prisoners? Most important, why have you allowed this hell-spawn into my hall?” He looked at Stuhach, which flicked its forked tongue in and out of its mouth.

“
Stanislaw is dead, my king,” Miro answered in a bold voice, standing at full attention. “Murdered by this fiend!”

“
I bring the blade that was the goal of this mission,” came the metal-on-stone scraping voice of Stuhach.

“
That was not the goal of the mission I sent my best men on, fiend!” Ingolf thundered. “The mission was to rescue my daughter from Rome! You were to provide protection against the Legions, not kill my brother!”

“
We destroyed a Legion,” Stuhach scraped, his tongue flicking in and out of his mouth. “Rome will fear to venture north of the great river again for a long time.”

“
And where is this blade that was worth the life of my general and how many other good men?” Stuhach held it up. “Bring it here,” Ingolf ordered.

“
No,” Stuhach answered. “It is not the property of men.”

Ingolf’s face reddened, but before he could say anything, Goldemar cleared his throat. “If I may, your Majesty. My people have fulfilled our side of our agreement. We have provided transportation and brought your warriors and your daughter safely to you. I am sorry for the loss of your good men, but Krum Chimmek, here, tells me that they had already lost their lives when he found the troop. All that being said, we would like to retrieve our property, as we agreed at the outset of this mission.

Ingolf looked down at the Kobolds. “In good time, Goldemar. First, tell me why you have brought these four strangers here?”

Krum Chimmek spoke up. “We found them with your men, fighting Stuhach’s monsters. They seem to have been captured by your men, and I thought it best to prevent them from bringing intelligence to your enemies.”

“
Without their help, Stuhach and its fellow hell-spawn would have slain and doubtlessly eaten all of us!” Miro exclaimed. He turned to the monster. “You will pay for murdering my father!”

“
Hold, Miro!” Ingolf ordered. “I must get to the bottom of this. Now, strangers, tell me yourselves: who are you, and what brought you to my men?”

Austinus bowed formally. “We are Gnostics, seekers of mystic knowledge, now living in Constantinople but originally from far-flung quarters of the world. My name is Austinus; this is my wife, Tiana; and this is our good friend and best fighter, as well as a wise mystic in his own right, Malleus. And this tall one is our apprentice, Javor, but also one of your countrymen, I believe, being from the North.

“
But please indulge my curiousity: you call yourself ‘Ingolf,’ but you cannot be the Ingolf from the Battle of Mons Lactarius—that was over thirty years ago.”

The King of the Mountain smiled a little. “That was I. I have fixed my age at thirty years. What were you doing in Pannonia?”

“
We were looking for answers to a great mystery, and travelled up the great river Danuvius until we came upon the survivors of a Roman Legion that had been all but wiped out by what they called ‘monsters.’ Well, of course, we took that with a grain of salt, but soon after we found your men camping, just a few nights ago.”

“
We caught them spying,” said Miro. “We took them captive, but when the monsters turned on us, we cut them free. And a good thing we did, too, or we would all be dead!”

“
You have said that, Miro,” Ingolf said impatiently. “Now be quiet.”

“
There is more to tell, King Ingolf!” said Krum Chimmek. “The blonde one, the one they say is one of you, only joined the group at our waystation, carried there by a dragon!”

Ingolf was shocked. “What do you mean?”

“
A large dragon, with dark scales. It tried to take the blade from the troll, your servant. But the troll fought it off and retrieved the blade.
Our
blade. We then took the dragon-rider prisoner.”

“
It’s
my
dagger!” Javor exclaimed, unable to keep his mouth shut any longer. Everyone looked at him, except for Stuhach, which only flicked its tongue. The dagger was still in its claw.