The Dwarf Kingdoms (Book 5) (31 page)

When Ascilius’s company became visible to the sentries, a horn filled the air with long, mellow notes. The makeshift gate in the center of the earthworks opened, and a score of heavily armed Dwarves marched out. As if of one mind, Ascilius’s column of Dwarves slowed, allowing him and Elerian to advance through their ranks to the head of the company. With Elerian by his right side, Ascilius approached the gate in the dike and its guardians, who waited with spears held ready. Their stern, dark eyes held a welcome for Ascilius, but they regarded Elerian, who had long since resumed his human disguise, with curiosity and some suspicion.

“You should cross the river with your company at once, my lord, for we are under orders to destroy the bridge as soon as you are safely across it,” said their leader to Ascilius.

“What of those who came before me?” asked Ascilius.

“The wagons and the Dwarves accompanying them have already gone on to Iulius. My company will follow them as soon as we have burnt the bridge.”

Parting their ranks, the sentries allowed Ascilius and his company to proceed across the bridge. Abandoning their dike, they followed after. When all of them were across, true to the word of their captain, one of their number, an older white haired Dwarf, touched his hand to the thick timbers that supported the stone roadbed of the bridge. Red flames sprang up beneath his fingers, spreading rapidly across the ancient oak beams that ran between the bridge piers. A roaring sound filled the air as the mage fire consumed the massive timbers until, with a groan of weakened wood, the whole roadbed collapsed into the river with a tremendous splash, the magical flames hissing like a great serpent as the rushing waters of the Catalus extinguished them.

“It is sad to see such an ancient structure destroyed, but at least the Goblins will not find it easy to cross the Catalus with the bridge gone,” said Ascilius to Elerian. “By the time they build a temporary bridge we will all of us be safe inside Iulius.”

“A good ending to a perilous undertaking,” replied Elerian as he turned away from the river. Immediately, his sharp eyes spied a lone wagon drawn up under the trees by the side of the road. Turned broadside to the river, its lanterns spread a cheerful pool of yellow light around it.

“I thought that all of the wagons had gone on to Iulius,” said Elerian to Ascilius in a puzzled voice.

“Let us find out why this one remained behind then,” replied the Dwarf as he led the way toward the vehicle. Circling around the wagon, they found Eonis and his sons sitting around a small fire on folding chairs.

“Welcome Ascilius,” said Cordus springing out of his chair. “Our father refused to leave until either you appeared or we had word of your fate. Sit and take part in our meal, for the bridge guards have shared their stores with us. ”

“Yes, nephew, sit and tell us of what has transpired since I last saw you,” said Eonis cheerfully, a large mug of beer in his right hand and a gleam of welcome in his dark eyes. He appeared to have recovered fully from his wounds and had set aside the trappings of war. Instead of mail, he now wore a sky blue hooded tunic with a belt of silver links around his waist, soft, dark pants, and brown leather boots. A crown of silver sat on his white locks, which, like his beard, he now wore loose.”

“I suppose there is no harm in resting for a bit,” said Ascilius wearily as he took one of the two empty chairs near his uncle. “I doubt that we will see a Goblin north of the Catalus before tomorrow night.”

Seeing that their captain intended to rest, Ascilius’s company made camp on the sides of the road near the wagon. Fires sprang up and the bridge guards joined them, bringing with them food and drink which they shared freely.

Beneath the enormous oak tree which spread its broad limbs over the wagon, Elerian sat down gratefully on the empty chair next to Ascilius. Quincius, Eonis’s aged attendant, brought food: wine, cheese, fresh bread, sliced cold meats, and apples and pears from the orchards of Iulius. More importantly, as far as Ascilius was concerned, there was as much beer and wine as he could ever wish to drink. After he had eaten a hearty meal, Ascilius related to Eonis and his sons all that had transpired since they had left the Catalus, leaving out only the part where he had chased the Goblin with Elerian on his back. Elerian smiled to himself at the omission, but he said nothing that would have spoiled Ascilius’s narrative.

“A brave tale,” said Eonis when Ascilius finally finished. “Your fitness to rule remains an open question in my mind, nephew, but even I will admit that you have become a skilled practitioner in the arts of war as well as a brave and crafty leader. I doubt that any other Dwarf among us could have brought as many of our people safe to Iulius as you have,” he concluded magnanimously. “As for your companion, I have misjudged him too. There is more to him than meets the eye, I think, but I will leave it to the two of you to reveal his secret in your own good time.”

“Thank you uncle,” replied Ascilius gruffly. He seemed genuinely moved to Elerian who suspected that these were the first words of praise that Ascilius had ever heard from his uncle. An embarrassed quiet now fell over the Dwarves who all busied themselves with their tankards of beer to cover the sudden silence.

“This has become far too serious and sentimental a gathering,” thought Elerian to himself, a gleam that had nothing to do with the firelight shining in his gray eyes as he sat unnoticed in his chair, sipping lightly from a mug of wine. “I think that I would be doing everyone a service if I livened things up a bit.”

After first calling his silver ring to his right hand to make himself invisible, Elerian cast a calling spell with an inconspicuous movement of the fingers of his left hand, causing the coin given to him by the Siogai to appear on the turf-covered ground on the far side of the campfire. Instantly, a gleaming pile of coins became visible at the edge of the yellow pool of light cast by the fire, their golden sides shining seductively in the flickering light given off by its flames. Eonis was the first to notice them, sitting bolt upright in his chair like a hound that has suddenly caught some particularly alluring scent. 

“I say is that gold?” he whispered, his words slightly slurred, for he had arrived at that stage of drinking where the spirits he had imbibed cast a warm glow over the world but also slowed his  thoughts and actions.

The moment the word gold left Eonis’s bearded lips, his sons and Ascilius all looked up together. Spotting the shining heap of treasure, they all flew out of their chairs, each of them intent on reaching the gold first. Perhaps thinking that free coins gave him equal rights with royalty, Quincius joined in the mad scramble, but all four Dwarves fell afoul of Eonis, who, galvanized by the sight of the illusory treasure, thrust his staff left and right between the legs of his competitors, reducing them to a thrashing heap of arms and legs in an instant. Darting around them with a cry of triumph, he bent to retrieve his prize at the very moment that Elerian sent his coin away, leaving the familiar illusion of a huge, hairy spider with faceted crimson eyes in its place. Nose to venomous mandibles with his old nemesis, Eonis straightened up with a strangled cry and fell flat on his back.

“Good heavens, I hope I have not killed him,” thought Elerian to himself, torn between laughter and anxiety. He was reassured when Eonis suddenly lifted his head and stared wildly about.

“Will the same trick work again?” wondered Elerian to himself as he caused his illusion to scuttle over the king’s chest before leaping onto Ascilius’s head, which had just emerged from the mound of heaving bodies and limbs in which he found himself trapped. Unaware of the illusion now perched on his head, Ascilius bleared eyes grew wide with alarm when his uncle suddenly leaped to his feet and rushed at him with his staff upraised. Unable to escape the tangle of arms and legs that held him captive, he desperately ducked his head, causing Elerian’s spider to retreat to his shoulders.

“I will save you nephew,” Eonis shouted fiercely as, determined to squash his persistent enemy once and for all, he brought his staff down with a loud thump on Ascilius’s broad shoulders.

“Ascilius is fortunate to still be wearing his padded shirt beneath his mail,” observed Elerian sagely to himself as Eonis directed a series of furious blows at Elerian’s illusory spider which continued to spring and scuttle about with such rapidity that each stroke of the king’s heavy ebony staff missed its mark, landing instead on some portion of desperately squirming Dwarf anatomy, for slowed and confused by the spirits they had consumed, Ascilius and the other Dwarves were only able to make feeble efforts to escape from the tangle they found themselves in.

Before long, Elerian was laughing so hard that tears blurred his eyes as Eonis pursued the illusory spider as vigorously as if he had drunk half a flask of aqua vitae. Taking pity at last on Ascilius and the other Dwarves, Elerian sent his illusion scuttling into the nearby forest before ending it entirely. Still shaking with laughter, he climbed high into the oak tree near the wagon as added insurance against being discovered.

“Boys, Quincius, rouse yourselves,” shouted Eonis. “The sending of the Umbrae may still be lurking about.”

Disentangling themselves, the Dwarves armed themselves with cudgels and for at least half an hour searched around the campsite under Eonis’s direction. They were helped by Dwarves from Ascilius’s company so that for a time, the woods beneath Elerian’s perch were thick with Dwarves searching behind every tree and under every fern. The one exception was Ascilius, whose baleful glance remained fixed on the branches above his head. Tiring at last of the fruitless search, Eonis finally called it off.

“The creature has no doubt retreated deep into the forest,” he said wearily to Ascilius. “I doubt that it will trouble us again tonight.”

“I will keep my cudgel close at hand in case it does return,” Ascilius assured his uncle, his eyes still fixed on the branches overhead.

“The gold that we saw would have been some recompense for our trouble tonight, but I see that it, too, has disappeared,” said Eonis regretfully. “The Siogai were likely the source of it, playing their usual tricks to amuse themselves.”

“Whoever the perpetrator was, he will pay dearly if I catch him,” grumbled Ascilius, tapping his staff ominously against the palm of his powerful left hand.

“I had best stay out of sight as long as he carries that great, ugly stick,” thought Elerian, his eyes glinting with laughter as he sat on his comfortable perch high above Ascilius’s head. He watched as Eonis, overcome by weariness and the spirits he had consumed, climbed into his wagon to sleep. A whispered conversation, which even Elerian’s sharp ears could not catch, now took place between Ascilius and his nephews before they, too, climbed into the wagon. Ascilius then helped Quincius hitch up the ponies, after he and the steward had packed up Eonis’s gear and extinguished the fire.

“Wait here for a moment,” Ascilius directed Quincius after the steward climbed into the driver’s seat of the wagon.

“What is he up to now?” wondered Elerian curiously to himself as Ascilius walked to the rear of the wagon and stealthily opened the back door of the vehicle. Moments later, Eonis’s staff emerged from the opening, held by a hand that could only belong to one of the king’s sons. Moving slowly and quietly, as if engaged in some risky endeavor, Ascilius took the staff and closed the wagon door. Passing right under Elerian, he walked deep into the forest and cast the ebony rod far into the trees, unaware that Elerian had followed him through the canopy overhead.

After muttering, “Good riddance,” Ascilius stomped away through the trees.

Eyes alight with laughter, Elerian retrieved the staff and raced through the canopy, arriving back at Eonis’s wagon ahead of Ascilius. Opening the back door of the vehicle, he saw Eonis nearby, sleeping restlessly on his back. His sons had also fallen asleep, both of them wearing peaceful looks as if they had finally rid themselves of some troublesome problem.

“Umbrae, sending,” muttered Eonis as Elerian slipped the king’s polished stave into his twitching right hand.

For a long moment, Elerian stared at the Dwarf king, a predatory gleam lighting his gray eyes as he imagined what the old Dwarf’s reaction would be if he woke to find the spider he feared so much perched on his chest.

“Too risky,” he finally decided with a mental sigh. “I would hate for his heart to give out this close to Iulius.”

Closing the wagon door, Elerian climbed up into the oak again, reaching his perch just as Ascilius emerged from the forest, a satisfied look on his face. Climbing onto the front seat beside Quincius, who had watched the theft of his master’s rod with approving eyes, Ascilius directed the steward to commence the drive to Iulius. As the wagon rumbled north on the highway, Ascilius’s company and the bridge sentries followed, forming a rearguard for Eonis and his family. High in the canopy, Elerian shadowed the Dwarves, walking lightly through the upper pathway of the forest, his clear gray eyes bright with laughter as he pictured Ascilius’s reaction when he saw Eonis emerge from the wagon with his staff in his hand.

THE FORTRESS

 
Long after Ascilius and his company left the Catalus behind, the first Mordi emerged from the forest south of the Catalus. With them were Trolls carrying axes, ropes, and chains, tasked with building a bridge over the river. Farther south on the Dwarf road, Sarius, the commander of the Goblin army, rode in grim silence at the head of his dark legions which he had been unable to gather together until Eboria had finally left the forest at the setting of the sun.

“Ill fortune has dogged my footsteps thus far, but my luck will turn soon,” he assured himself. “In two days time, I will stand before the gates of Iulius, and the siege of last Dwarf kingdom will begin in earnest. Whether it takes me a year or a hundred years, I will grind the little people down under my boot heel, making them pay a hundred times over for the trouble they have caused me, but their punishment will be as nothing compared to the retribution I will meet out to Ascilius and his gangrel companion. Before I deliver them to Torquatus, their suffering will become legendary, serving as a warning and a deterrent to those who would oppose the will of the dark king.”

At the same moment that Sarius was musing on his sinister plans for the Dwarf race, Eonis’s wagon was far up the north road. To the east and the west, the rugged foothills and tall mountains which rose up like a dark wall had crept close to the road, leaving only a narrow densely forested valley between them. From his vantage point in the canopy, high above the Dwarves, Elerian could hear the Catalus on his left, the loud murmur of its rushing water reaching him through the trees. On his right, he saw a second road suddenly appear, branching from the main highway to run east through the foothills and mountains on the right. The sight of it sent a chill of apprehension through him.

“That must be the road which Anthea plans to follow to Iulius,” thought Elerian uneasily to himself. “In a day or two, when the Goblin army arrives to lay siege to Iulius, this highway will surely be watched and guarded. If Anthea is not warned of the danger, she may ride unaware straight into the welcoming arms of the Goblins.”

Dropping to the ground, he ran lightly to the right side of Eonis’s wagon where Ascilius was fast asleep on the wagon seat. Beside him, Quincius also dozed, trusting to well trained ponies to follow the road. The Dwarves marching behind the wagon started when Elerian suddenly appeared after sending away his silver ring, but they quickly ascribed his sudden appearance to a trick of the early morning light and their own weariness which now weighed down both their limbs and their eyelids.

“Good morning,” said Elerian loudly to Ascilius, watching with bright eyes as the Dwarf started awake and almost fell off the wagon seat.

“Were I not so sore, I would pummel you where you stand for last night’s mischief,” complained Ascilius angrily after recovering his balance.

“Good heavens!” replied Elerian in an aggrieved voice. “I cannot even wish you a good morning without being accused of having performed some sort of prank.”

Ascilius continued to glare at Elerian, the familiar gleam in his companion’s gray eyes telling him clearer than words that Elerian was laughing at him even while claiming to be innocent of any wrongdoing. Quincius, who had also awakened, also had a strong suspicion that Elerian was responsible for last night’s goings-on, but he remained silent. Old and wise, he had learned long ago not to meddle in the affairs of either royalty or mages.

“Let someone else speak of spiders and Siogai gold,” he thought sagely to himself. “Were I to talk out of turn, I might find myself turned into a frog by yonder mage. Who knows what he may be, for no true man ever worked magic without a staff.”

Becoming serious, Elerian said quietly, “I think that I should leave you Ascilius. I should set out on the plains road now before the Goblins take control of it. I would not have Anthea set out from Tarsius only to walk unaware into their cruel grasp.”

At his words, Ascilius’s whole demeanor changed. “You cannot go yet,” he protested vigorously. First, I must first show you the last kingdom of the eastern Dwarves. Then, I promise you that you will be on your way. It takes a journey of many days to travel from Niveaus to Iulius. Even if Anthea set out today, you could spend a week with me and still have time to intercept her far out on the plains.”

“Very well then,” said Elerian reluctantly. “I will wait one more week, but not an hour more.”

“You will not regret it,” Ascilius reassured him.

Elerian was not so sure that Ascilius was right, but he kept his concerns to himself as he continued to run lightly beside Eonis’s wagon which soon came to a narrow, steep sided gorge that was already in deep shadow. The road continued on in the narrow space that lay between the east bank of the Catalus, which was now ran close to the left shoulder of the road and the right wall of the gorge. The river, green and swollen with icy snowmelt, thundered down steep falls and over rocky rapids, a pale mist rising into the air from its
churning waters to
cover the rocks of the canyon walls with a thin coating of moisture. Green ferns and moss, dark green from the abundant water, grew far up the walls, but there were no trees.

After perhaps a quarter mile, the road reached the head of the gorge. Here the river dropped almost one hundred feet straight down over a sheer cliff into a round pool full of water slicked black rocks. A heavy white mist rose from the surface of the pool, and the roar of falling water filled the air. To the right of the falls, in the eastern wall of the gorge, Elerian saw a great double gate set in the cliff face. Above the gate, the cliff wall bulged out over the entryway. Narrow slots covered with iron grates were cut into both the front and the floor of the overhang, so that the gates could be defended from above by archers. At the top of the cliff, to the right of the falls, was a low wall that ran the length of the precipice. Though narrow apertures cut at regular intervals in the barrier, Elerian could see arbalests that looked powerful enough to send a shaft clean through a Troll.

“This is strong place, capable of resisting a great army,” thought Elerian to himself. “If enough Dwarves man the defenses here, no enemy can survive for long in front of the gates. Neither can they bring in any great engines of war nor even a ram, for there is not enough space before the gates to accommodate them. Iulius looks to be a tough nut for the Goblins to crack.”

As the column of Dwarves approached the gates, they swung open, pushed by Dwarves wearing bright mail and carrying axes in their hands. When the wagon driven by Quincius approached, they stopped it at once, casting dark, suspicious glances Elerian’s way.

“Your companion cannot pass here without a blindfold,” said a sturdy Dwarf to Ascilius. “No outsider is allowed to see the inside of the outer defenses by order of the king.” It mattered little to Elerian whether he was blindfolded or not, but Ascilius immediately took issue with having Elerian’s eyes covered.

“My companion poses no danger to Iulius,” he protested. “His actions have earned him the right to pass a hundred times through these gates with his eyes uncovered.”

“The desires of a stranger of no rank do not override the directive of my king,” replied the guard stubbornly.

 “Let it go,” Elerian advised Ascilius, but the Dwarf’s face had already darkened with anger at the insult.

 “I say he will pass through with his eyes uncovered,” he roared, stepping forward to stand nose to nose with the gate captain, Fulmen grasped in his right hand.

The gate captain paled, but he did not back up an inch. Behind him, the gate guards quickly assembled around him, weapons held ready.

“In a moment, blood will be spilled here because of Dwarf stubbornness,” thought Elerian unhappily as the Dwarves in Ascilius’s company began to gather around the wagon, their grim faces promising trouble for the gate guards. At that moment, a door in the side of the wagon swung open and a set of wooden steps swung down on hinges to the ground. Taking his time, Eonis, staff in hand, climbed stiffly out of the wagon followed by his two sons. Ascilius frowned at the sight of the king’s ebony stave before turning to glare at Elerian who was now pretending a great interest in the cliff face above the gate.

“It is not seemly that we fight among ourselves, nephew,” said Eonis in his deep voice. “We have more than enough enemies in the wide world to battle.” The gate captain recognized Eonis at once and looked relieved, thinking the king of Galenus was taking his side.

“My orders come from your brother, the king himself, lord,” he said importantly. “No outsiders may pass the gates without a blindfold.”

“I think my brother will not mind an exception in this case,” said Eonis with a smile. “You will let my nephew's companion pass with his sight unfettered.”

The gate captain was taken aback to learn that he had insulted Dardanus’s nephew and that he was now faced with the choice of disobeying either his own king or the king’s brother. When he hesitated, the smile suddenly vanished from Eonis's face, and his dark eyes became stern. His knotted right hand tightened on the ebony staff that he held in his right hand. In that moment, he looked more than capable of striking anyone who opposed his will.

“I cannot fight with the king’s brother,” reasoned the gate captain with himself. “Dardanus would have my head, for the three brothers are closer than the pages of a book.”

“I will disobey my king on your orders, my lord,” he said to Eonis as he hastily stepped aside. The Dwarves behind him also melted away, leaving the passageway clear.

His face tranquil once more, Eonis took Ascilius’s seat on the wagon. Quincius urged the ponies on with a flip of the reins, and the wagon entered the tunnel followed by Elerian and Ascilius, Ascilius bestowing a dark look on the gate captain when they passed by him. Behind Ascilius’s back, Elerian paused and looked directly at the Dwarf for a moment. The, shaking his head sadly, he slowly drew his hand across his throat. His gray eyes gleamed when the gate captain’s face turned pale.

The tunnel beneath the cliff led to a second set of gates, which were open but also guarded. No one challenged Elerian this time as he followed Eonis’s wagon across a large hall. On the far side of the chamber was another set of gates which opened up onto a wide ramp that climbed gradually to the left. The ramp brought Eonis’s wagon and the column of Dwarves behind him to a large courtyard on the top of the cliff face.

As he walked north across the courtyard, Elerian looked around him curiously. To his left, the west side of the courtyard was bounded by a sheer cliff. Along the base of the precipice, the Catalus ran through a deep stone channel before racing over the edge of the courtyard, cascading into the pool below with a low-pitched, constant roar. Behind him, the low wall Elerian had seen from the road ran from the edge of the river to a second cliff face to his right on the east side of the courtyard. At the north end of the courtyard was another wall, this one at least sixty feet high. It was pierced by a single double gate which was wide open. To the left of the gate, the Catalus flowed through a low, arch closed off by massive iron bars. On the road which was visible through the open gates, made tiny by distance, Elerian could see a long line of wagons on their way north to Iulius.

“No matter how large an army Torquatus brings against us, his forces will break like water flowing against stone if he seeks to enter the valley beyond that wall,” said Ascilius proudly.

“These defenses around us will keep out the Goblins, but they will also cage anyone inside them,” said Elerian apprehensively, for he was suddenly afraid that he might remain trapped here in this last stronghold of the Dwarves.

“There will be a way out for you when it is time to leave,” Ascilius reassured him.

By now, Eonis’s wagon had left the courtyard, followed by Ascilius’s company of Dwarves. When Eonis leaned his white locks around the side of the wagon Ascilius shouted, “I will join you in Iulius, uncle. Give my greetings to Dardanus.”

“Should we not go with him, Ascilius?” asked Elerian, impatient to be on his way.

“I would like to show you the Caldaria at sunset before we leave,” replied Ascilius unhurriedly. “In the meantime we can have a meal and rest a bit. After you have seen the valley we will spend the night in the fortress sleeping in a proper bed. It is a four day ride by carriage to Iulius so there is no sense in hurrying.”

“Knowing how stubborn he is, there is no use in arguing,” thought Elerian resignedly to himself as he followed Ascilius to a door in the cliff face beside which a gray haired Dwarf in burnished chain mail waited for them.

“My name is Herma,” he said to Ascilius after making a deep bow. “I am the commander of this fortress. Dardanus has sent word that every courtesy is to be extended to his brother and his nephew. If there is anything you wish you have only to ask.”

 “What of my companion, Elerian?” asked Ascilius, who was still rankled by Elerian’s reception at the gate to the fortress.

“He is to be treated like yourself,” said the Dwarf respectfully. “Word of his deeds has already reached Dardanus’s ears.”

“In that case,” said Ascilius in a mollified voice, “we would like a bath and a meal along with a room for the night.”

“Follow me then,” replied Herma.

After passing through the entryway, he led Ascilius and Elerian deeper into the cliff face, eventually bringing them to a bathhouse. Ascilius entered eagerly, but Elerian paused a moment by Herma’s side.