The Dwarf Kingdoms (Book 5) (2 page)

Ascilius was in an expansive mood now that he seemed to feel that the danger of discovery by some enemy was over. Never one to shrink from explaining his own cleverness to Elerian, he began to speak in a condescending voice calculated to irritate his companion even more.

“I would think that someone as clever as yourself would have guessed by now,” he said, shaking his head in pretended disbelief at Elerian’s obtuseness.

Elerian’s eye took on a familiar hard gleam that warned Ascilius that he had pushed his companion to the limits of his patience, but he was unable to resist one last dig.

“Very well then,” he said in a longsuffering voice. “I see that I must explain further. Step off the road for a moment. Even you should be able to perceive its secret at that point.”

“You will become visible if I do,” warned Elerian. “I cannot maintain the spell which renders you invisible from that distance.”

“Do as I say,” replied Ascilius smugly. Even though he could not see his companion, for he did not possess mage sight, he was enjoying himself immensely, pleased by the growing irritation in Elerian’s voice. “This will even the score somewhat for the strain that knife throw inflicted on my poor heart,” he thought cheerfully to himself.

“I suppose I must let him have his fun, or he will carry on this nonsense forever,” thought Elerian resignedly to himself as he backed away from Ascilius. When his light steps carried him off the road, he was surprised when the Dwarf failed to appear, even though he was no longer covered by the invisibility spell cast by Elerian’s silver ring. Opening his third eye, Elerian saw a golden haze in front of him, running from the tunnel entrance on his right into the forest on his left, completely masking the forest road. Behind the haze, he saw the faint outline of Ascilius’s golden shade.

“An illusion spell,” thought Elerian admiringly to himself. “The sly fox has hidden the road and anyone who steps on it behind an illusion spell. We can march up to the gates of Galenus and the Goblins will be none the wiser.”

“How is it done?” demanded Elerian, both closing his third eye and sending away his ring as he stepped back on to the road. Visible now, Ascilius looked inordinately pleased with himself.

“The argentum in the roadbed contains the spell that casts the illusion,” replied the Dwarf complacently.

“How is it that we do not have to remain in contact with the metal in order for it to remain active?” asked Elerian in a puzzled voice.

“As long as we are inside the aura of the spell,” replied Ascilius, “it is able to draw power from us without us touching the glyph. As long as even one member of our company remains on the road, the spell will persist. When we all step off the road, however, the illusion will vanish.”

“What if some Goblin steps on the road now?” objected Elerian. “He will discover the secret immediately.”

“That is why speed is now our greatest requirement in this dangerous endeavor,” replied Ascilius, turning serious once more. Turning away from Elerian, he walked to the tunnel entrance, his craggy face now drawn into worried lines.

“The uncertainty of how this venture will end must make a heavy burden for him to carry,” thought Elerian sympathetically to himself as he walked lightly behind Ascilius. His empathy for Ascilius’s plight, however, did not prevent him from plotting how he might wring the secret of the spell contained in the glyphs from his companion. The prospect of learning new magic was enticing, but from past experience, he knew that Ascilius would not surrender his spell easily.

“He will withhold it as long as possible to torment me as soon as he knows that I want it,” thought Elerian to himself as Ascilius ordered his company of Dwarves to leave the tunnel, maintaining their triple line as they assembled on the on the road. “As usual, I will have to trick him into giving it to me.”

“Follow in the footsteps of the person ahead of you,” Ascilius warned everyone quietly as the lines of Dwarves walked past him. “You will be concealed as long as you stay on the road, but on no account is anyone to talk or even cough. A single sneeze could give us away.”

When Dwarves were all out in the open, Ascilius closed the tunnel doors, which vanished from sight. Indistinguishable from the stone around them, they fit so well in their setting that not a single seam was visible to give away their presence.

“Someone could search for years and never discover them,” thought Elerian admiringly to himself as he followed Ascilius to the van of the company of Dwarves. Ascilius reached into his backpack then, taking out a hooded cloak woven of linen and dyed in random patterns of green and brown. The company of Dwarves behind him all did the same. When Elerian reached into his own pack, he found a cloak made to his own size. The cloth was thin and supple, clinging closely to his slender figure when he threw it over his shoulders. Worn in the forest, it would blend in well, making him nearly invisible to the casual eye.

Once everyone was properly attired, Ascilius began to run north at a quick but measured pace with Elerian drifting lightly over the ground at his right side. The race to reach Galenus had begun. As he ran next to Ascilius, Elerian admired the clever road which the Dwarf had crafted years ago. It followed the ridge tops of the hills that stretched away to the north, but never came up high enough on the slopes to be visible against the skyline. Nowhere did it run straight, winding instead between the trunks of the great oaks and chestnuts that covered the hills. Branches grew across it, hiding it from anything passing overhead, and grass and drifts of leaves covered its surface so that it looked a part of the forest around it. The rushing streams that had carved deep gullies out of the sides of the hills were crossed over clever bridges of stone that were disguised by ankle deep water, making them difficult to pick out as the work of Dwarven hands.

After several miles, the road brought the column of Dwarves to the lip of a wide gorge that ran north to south. Far below, Elerian could see the Catalus foaming white and green in its stony bed. Swift and strong from the cold melt waters that it received from the peaks to the north, the river had cut a deep channel through the mountains here. Ascilius’s hidden road now angled to the left, disappearing into the enormous trees which grew on the steep slopes of the gorge.

Followed by Elerian and his column of Dwarves, Ascilius began to descend the narrow track in front of him. The forest on either side of the road offered little concealment for an enemy, for only clumps of feathery, knee high green ferns grew among the twisting roots of the trees, but the thick canopy above them was a different matter. Both Ascilius and Elerian kept a close eye on the branches overhead, looking for any telltale flash of red, but they saw only ordinary birds and a number of squirrels, some of which were the size of hares, with brown fur on their upper parts and creamy white on their undersides. There should have been other game, too, but Elerian suspected that the presence of Eboria had caused most of the larger animals to leave these hills or to go into hiding.

 As the column descended deeper into the gorge, the ears of the company were filled with the roar of the river which grew increasingly louder until the road finally ended on the stony west bank of the Catalus, which was about one hundred feet wide at this point. The river’s current was strong and great sprays of mist sprang into the air where water blackened rocks obstructed the flow of its green waters. Elerian wondered how Ascilius proposed to cross the watercourse, for judging from his past experiences with the Dwarf, he felt certain that not one of his company would possess the ability to swim.

“The road runs under the riverbed,” said Ascilius to Elerian as if sensing his question. “We will need help maintaining our footing if we are to follow it, however.”

Taking off his pack, Ascilius retrieved a coil of light, thin rope from its depths. Securing one end of the rope to a barbed steel crossbow quarrel, he set the dart in a small crossbow. When Ascilius released the trigger, the steel dart sped across the gorge with the thin cord uncoiling behind it. After it buried itself for half its length in the splintered stump of a fallen oak that was close to the east bank, Ascilius wrapped the other end of the rope around a sturdy ash tree growing nearby, pulling the cord, which was much stronger than it looked, as tightly as he could before fastening it with a joining spell.

 “Follow me,” said Ascilius to Elerian and the Dwarves standing behind him, “but be careful for the flow of the current is strong here.”

Grasping the taut rope, which was about waist high to a Dwarf, in his right hand, Ascilius waded out into the river. The Dwarves at the head of the column held their breaths, for they expected him to be swept away at any moment. Elerian tensely held himself ready to swim out and rescue the Dwarf if that happened, but the swift green water of the Catalus never came up higher than Ascilius’s boot tops as he cautiously waded across the river. While Elerian stood to one side, the column of Dwarves followed Ascilius in single file. They discovered that a firm roadbed was cleverly concealed beneath the river’s cold green waters, but even so, many of them would have been swept away without the rope, for the current was very strong, tugging relentlessly at their feet and ankles.

Once everyone was on the far side, Elerian leaped lightly onto the cord which yielded only a little under his weight. Under the wondering eyes of the Dwarves, he ran sure footedly across the river, the thin cord barely flexing beneath his light steps.

“Show off,” growled Ascilius as Elerian leaped gracefully down to the ground next to him, a smug look on his face.

“Why should I wet my feet when there is no need,” replied Elerian as Ascilius raised his right hand to cast a spell. With his third eye, Elerian saw a small golden orb fly from his fingers. Nicely aimed, considering the distance, the parting spell struck the knot holding the rope around the ash tree on the far side of the river. The rope immediately went slack and, falling away from the trunk of the tree, was swept downstream by the river. Ascilius drew in the dripping cord hand over hand, wrapping it into a tight coil while Elerian freed the other end of the rope from the dart. He was then forced to use a spell to carry the quarrel out of the stump, for the barbed head of the dart was too deeply buried for him to pull it out, even with the great strength of his sinewy arms.

The road now swung to the left, climbing the steep east slope of the gorge. Leading the way once more, Ascilius followed the track at a steady trot. Once over the lip of the gorge, he led the company back into the foothills and their concealing forests. High above the Catalus the road curved to the west in a gradual arc, paralleling the course of the river.

“The Catalus will run to our left now affording us, I hope, some protection from being discovered by the enemy,” said Ascilius to Elerian. “This forest that we are traveling through, however, has always had an evil reputation amongst my folk, so it would be best if you stayed on the road with the rest of the company until we reach Galenus,” the Dwarf warned Elerian. “Trolls, leopardi, and worse can be found in these hills. More than one Dwarf questing for riches has disappeared here over the years.”

Ascilius’s warning, of course, only increased Elerian’s desire to explore the forest around him. After spending almost two weeks underground in Ennodius, he was anxious to be among trees again, breathing the fresh scent of growing things instead of the cold, lifeless smell of stone.” 

“I am going to run ahead a bit and scout the way for danger,” he said to Ascilius.

“Stay on the road,” his companion warned again.

Elerian made no reply, instead increasing increased his speed until the Dwarf company was out of sight. He ran for several more miles, but the forest road and the woods around it remained empty of any danger. With a gleam of anticipation in his eyes, Elerian stopped and called his silver ring to his right hand. Cloaked by the ring’s invisibility spell, he stepped off the road into the forest on his right.

“Ascilius and the others should be safe while I explore for a bit,” he thought to himself. “I can catch up with them later, after I have satisfied my curiosity.”

Traveling north Elerian walked lightly through an open wood made up primarily of groves of widely spaced ancient oaks and chestnuts, the trees rising up on all sides of him like mighty gray columns, wider than a man was tall. Overhead their thick branches and crowded leaves formed a dense green roof that let in little light and heat, despite the sun being high in a clear sky. Elerian enjoyed the dim, coolness under the great trees as he stepped lightly over and around the thick, knotted roots that snaked across the ground.

“What secrets do these ancients hold in their woody hearts?” he wondered as he looked around him admiringly. Then, he suddenly stiffened and stopped in his tracks, for the sleek, black form of a leopardi had appeared between the boles of the trees in front of him, white, saber fangs gleaming dangerously in the dim light.

THE PEREGRIN

 “Another Goblin spy,” was Elerian’s first thought when he saw the great cat, for he knew that some of their shape changers favored that form. Swiftly his right hand reached back over his shoulder, closing over the Acris’s cool, ridged handle. Chest heaving from its labored breathing, the leopardi stopped in its tracks, casting a distracted gaze at Elerian.

“Does it see me or has it only caught my scent?” he wondered to himself, for it was obvious that the leopardi knew he was there, invisible or not. Now that he saw its face full on, Elerian wondered if this was truly a Goblin shape changer, for the creature’s eyes were a warm gold color with no hint of red in them, and the dark pupils at their center were round not slit.

Abruptly, the great cat looked back over its left shoulder, pointed ears upraised as if listening intently. Elerian noticed for the first time that a small silver dart protruded from the side of its left paw. Raised slightly off the ground to alleviate the pain caused by the missile, the foot resembled a furry hand with thick, stubby digits.

“The dart keeps it from climbing into the canopy where it could easily escape whatever pursues it,” thought Elerian to himself. The silvery gleam emitted by the missile told Elerian that it was made of argentum and likely carried some spell in its core. He started when the sable cat turned toward him again and said in a rough voice, “Run or they will have you too.”

Elerian hesitated, unsure now of whether he was dealing with a shape changer or a true beast with the power of speech.

“I ought not to involve myself in its troubles,” he silently cautioned himself, mindful of the fact that Ascilius and his column of Dwarves were not far away. “Still, it did warn me against its pursuers. I should at least return the favor.”

Against his better judgment, Elerian raised his sword and cast a spell. With his third eye, he saw a small golden orb leap from Acris’s point. His aim was true, for after flying through the air, the orb enveloped the dart. The argentum shone brightly for a moment, resisting his spell. Then, it vanished, reappearing on the ground by Elerian’s invisible feet. Blood immediately ran from the wound in the leopardi’s paw and then stopped abruptly as the wound slowly closed.

“The creature has some mage powers of its own,” thought Elerian to himself as the leopardi flexed its newly healed paw. Elerian’s right hand tightened again around the hilt of Acris as long, cruel, retractable claws emerged from the ends of the leopardi’s stubby fingers. “Will it now repay a kindness with violence,” he wondered as he prepared to defend himself.

“I cannot see you stranger, but I will remember your scent and the aid you gave me,” said the leopardi in its hoarse voice. Then, with a supple, powerful leap, the sable cat sprang high up onto the trunk of a great oak. With its hook shaped claws, it drew itself onto a great branch before fading away into the canopy, silent as a shadow as it glided over the tree limbs. Almost immediately, two tall, shaggy gray hounds appeared between the trees in front of Elerian, long noses held close to the ground. They were followed by a stocky Dwarf wearing only a leather kilt and leather boots. His long brown hair and beard were tightly braided, and a thick collar of yellow gold circled his sinewy neck. Clenched in his knotted right hand was a broad bladed ax. A silver horn was suspended from a leather strap hung across his broad chest. Hounds and Dwarf all came to an abrupt stop when the dogs scented Elerian. Holding their ground, they began to bark ferociously. Behind them, the Dwarf’s dark eyes flashed fiercely as he raised his ax.

“The forest is as crowded today as a square on market day,” thought Elerian wryly to himself as five riders appeared behind the Dwarf, all of them mounted on steeds that resembled clean-limbed horses with dark, shining coats. Tall, slender, with long gold or red air tied back with narrow leather straps, the riders were all dressed in soft leather clothing dyed green and brown boots that came to mid-calf.

“Show yourself, mage,” commanded the lead rider imperiously. She was a stunning beauty with emerald eyes and hair as red as mage fire.

 “Not an Eirian but not quite human either, I’ll wager,” thought Elerian to himself as he looked into the woman’s clear, green eyes. It was obvious that she saw him despite the cloak of invisibility that covered him. Curious to learn more about these strange riders, Elerian sent away his ring and stripped away the illusion which normally disguised his elvish features. At his sudden appearance, the woman’s companions started in their saddles.

“Only she has mage sight,” thought Elerian to himself. “The others did not see me when I wore my ring.”

“An Eirian,” exclaimed one of the riders in a clear voice, speaking in a language that distantly resembled the elvish tongue that Elerian had learned as a youth. Elerian detected no welcome in his voice, only a subtle resentment. “I thought that they had all fled this realm,” continued the rider, speaking to his companions.

“He is only a half-blood by his look,” said another rider contemptuously. Turning to the woman with the emerald eyes, he spoke again in a voice now turned angry and vindictive.

“He has interfered in our hunt somehow, Lara, for our dart lies at his feet. Let us take him captive in recompense for our lost prey. It would be advantageous to have an immortal for a slave.”

“You may not find it so easy to capture me,” said Elerian coldly in Elvish before the woman could reply. Although he was outnumbered, he felt no fear of these strangers, for he was confident in his own powers and weapons. The first rider who had spoken suddenly raised his right hand. Instead of casting a shield spell to deflect the charm that he knew was coming his way, Elerian merely raised his own right hand. With his magical third eye, he saw a golden orb of light leap from the rider’s fingers. When it struck him, it was immediately absorbed by the golden film of light that had spread over his body, flowing from the silver ring of power that he wore on his right hand. The circlet of argentum gleamed briefly as it absorbed the rider’s spell, rendering it harmless. The rider cursed and glared angrily at Elerian when he saw the ring.

“This realm has spawned yet another ring wielder,” he said disgustedly to the others. “Let us destroy him and take his ring for our own.” Drawing his sword, he raised it high, the threads of argentum inlaid in its sides gleaming brightly. Urged on by pressure from the rider’s knees, his mount reached Elerian in a single leap. The rider’s bright sword swung down in a bright arc, but instead of cleaving Elerian’s head, it clashed against the bright edge of Acris, which Elerian had raised with his right hand. There was a sudden ring of steel against steel followed by a stab of light like a lightening stroke. As rider’s sword shivered into pieces, his startled mount emitted a high, frightened neigh and reared, spilling its red haired rider onto the ground at Elerian’s feet, a stunned look on his face. Although he was shaken by the power he had expended to ward off the rider’s blow, Elerian’s hand was steady as he deliberately rested Acris’s keen point against the throat of the fallen rider. He heard the whisper of steel on leather as all of the other riders except the emerald-eyed woman drew their swords.

“Put away your weapons. He is too strong for you,” she advised her companions before they could launch an attack on Elerian. With sullen looks on their faces, they sheathed their swords.

“They have no love for Elves,” thought Elerian to himself, “or perhaps it is me they have taken a dislike to.”

“Join us,” said the woman softly to Elerian. Her eyes, luminous and green, cast an admiring glance over his fair features and slender, supple form. “It would please me to have an Eirian in our ranks.”

The offer took Elerian by surprise, but recognizing the subtle magic behind the invitation that sought to subvert his will to hers, he hardened his resolve and closed his mind as he had learned to do so long ago during his encounters with the evil mage Drusus and again, more recently, against Eboria.

“Save your spells,” he replied, a hard edge in his clear voice, “for they will do you no good. Unless you are stronger than a dragon, I do not think that you can bend my will to yours.”

The woman laughed, a clear, bewitching sound. “Come with me willingly then, stranger. Ride with us as an equal as we complete our arc through the heavens. A shadow grows in the east that will someday cover this entire realm and all its inhabitants. If you remain hear it will devour you too.”

“Before I give you an answer, tell me who you are and why you are here in this wild place?” replied Elerian, stalling for time.

“I am Laralerian, and this is my company,” replied the rider proudly. “We are the Peregrin. Once every fifty years we come here to hunt the fierce pard, for our king desires its skin which possesses magical powers.”

“Time wastes Lara,” said one of the riders suddenly. “The gate will close at the waning of the moon, only a few days hence. If we cannot slay or capture this half blood creature then let us be on our way.”

“We will leave when I am ready, Fiochmar,” replied Laralerian angrily. “Remember that I traveled the arc of the heavens before you were even born.”

“Did you come from outside?” interrupted Elerian, unable to keep the eagerness out of his voice. Dozens of other questions suddenly crowded his mind. “Does she know the secret of the gates?” he wondered to himself.

“Come with me, and all your questions will be answered,” said Laralerian softly, a tantalizing look in her eyes. “Forget the human woman that you hold in your memory.” A sudden image of Anthea appeared in Elerian’s mind, pale and insignificant in the shadow of the Peregrin’s red-gold beauty.

“She can cast her thoughts and read minds as well as I,” thought Elerian to himself, recognizing at once that the unflattering image had come from Laralerian. In spite of her beauty and his own thirst for new knowledge, he felt no inclination to accept her offer, for there was too much about her that reminded him of Eboria.

“They are both as beautiful as the red gold glory of the rising sun,” he thought to himself, “but like Eboria, I do not think that this woman would keep any promise that she made to me.”

“I cannot break the vow I made to return to my betrothed,” replied Elerian, trying to make his voice sound regretful so as not to offend the Peregrin. The blaze of anger in Laralerian’s eyes told him at once that he had failed

“Stay here then until the shadow takes you and your pale paramour,” replied the woman in a voice that was suddenly harsh and dangerous, a green fire burning in her emerald eyes. “Since you will not accept my companionship, I will leave you with a taste of my wrath instead. From now until your last day you will dream of me and experience regret sharp as razors at what you lost by your foolish decision.”

“It seems my fate to be continually cursed, first by Drusus and now by this red haired sorceress,” thought Elerian wryly to himself when he heard her malediction.

“I will trade you the life of your companion for answers to my questions,” offered Elerian, still hoping that he might gain some knowledge from the Peregrin.

“You may do as you wish with the fool,” replied Laralerian coldly. Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the anger vanished from her beautiful face, to be replaced by a calculating look. “If you give me your ring and weapons, however, I will give you the knowledge that you desire,” she said softly, her voice warm and persuasive once more.

“After which you will no doubt take me prisoner,” thought Elerian dryly to himself. He kept his suspicions to himself, however, for he felt that there was no point in further antagonizing this fiery creature from another realm.

“I cannot do that,” he replied politely.

“Then I shall waste no more time on you,” said Laralerian angrily. “Take up the hunt again,” she suddenly commanded the Dwarf. “Let us leave this fool to his doom.”

“There are Dwarves living in the country south of here,” said Elerian quietly to the huntsman. “I will trade the rider I overcame for your freedom if you wish.”

“I am no Dwarf,” said the huntsman proudly. “I am a Kobold and I will stay in the service of my lady until death claims me. I would die away from her beauty.”

“He is wiser than you,” said Laralerian arrogantly to Elerian before whirling her steed around with a firm pull on its reins.

“What of Fiochmar?” asked one of the other riders as Laralerian rode off.

“He can stay here with this fool for all that I care,” she replied callously. Followed by the rest of her small company, she rode after the kobold who, with his hounds, had begun to cast about deeper in the forest for the trail of the leopardi, unaware that the creature had taken to the trees.

“Hopefully, their hunt will take them away from the Dwarf road,” thought Elerian to himself as he watched the Peregrin ride off toward the north. “Who knows what mischief they might cause if they discovered Ascilius’s company.”

He looked down then at Fiochmar who still lay at his feet with Acris’s sharp point pressed against his throat. “Answer my questions and I will give you your freedom,” he said quietly.

“I will say nothing though you torture me day and night,” replied the red haired stranger sullenly.

“Join your company then,” said Elerian, disappointed once more in his quest for knowledge. “I have no further use for you.”

When he withdrew his sword, the Peregrin rose lithely to his feet. After gathering up the pieces of his sword and the shining dart that lay on the ground nearby, he mounted his steed, which stood quietly. close at hand. As he rode away, he cast a dark look at Elerian over his left shoulder.