The Exodus Sagas: Book III - Of Ghosts And Mountains (40 page)

“
How bad was it, Gwenne
?” Shinayne whispered.

“Not at all actually, rather sweet and delicious.”
She hid her smile, hid her aching stomach, tightened her angry bowels, and nodded for Shinayne to go next. She kept her composure as the elven noble walked forward with Drodun.

“
Gwenneth!
” Zen whispered accusingly, shaking his head. He knew what traditional speak-mead tasted like, it was the awful bottom of the vat that was given away to the church.

“
Oh, come now. It will be fun, just watch
.” She smiled as Drodun and the gathered dwarves argued a bit. Seemed they forgot that he had drank a mug, therefore had the floor, and wished to speak. It took a few minutes of heated debate in the dwarven tongue, but he was allowed.

Drodun raised his hand, pointed to Zen to translate as he gestured to his friends, and bowed to each king. He pulled out the thick tome of visitors from a satchel on his belt and opened it. “My kings, my high hammer Brunnwik, fellow dwarves, I, father Drodun Anduvann o’ the Temple o’ the Cracked Wall, bring ye’ great and noble travelers. The lady Gwenneth ye’ met from an honored house in Chazzrynn. They be led by a priest o’ the temple, a devout o’ Vundren from Boraduum. He is the last o’ his line, the last Thalanaxe. Son o’ the late and mighty Kimmarik he is, I ask ye’ to welcome Azenairk Thalanaxe.”

Zen walked forward, head bowed as the fists slammed the stone tables and Drodun patted him hard on the shoulder.

“
Uhh, hmmmm
…” Shinayne nudged Drodun in the round belly, she assumed he had forgotten she was there. He smiled to a robed dwarf, all covered in hammers and moons of green and gold, not paying much mind to her at all. She shrugged, seeing how things went in this tradition of theirs, and took a mug.

“
No, Shinayne, no
!” Zen whispered, knowing her refined elven pallat would not tolerate it, too late.

The elven noble drank three rancid gulps, felt the mold flavored pieces, thought she felt something move in her mouth, and spit it all out over the floor. It was the worst thing she had ever tasted, she gagged, and looked for her waterskin. The laughter erupted from half the room, and from Gwenneth, even Saberrak chuckled upon seeing her squirming visage. Shinayne bowed, wiped her mouth with an offered towel from a little gnome with a little mop. She walked back behind Drodun and Zen, right next to her robed friend.

“You, my dear Gwenneth, are so clever, clever indeed. So clever in fact, that I may have to ponder a bit of revenge
.” Shinayne smiled to Gwenne, sarcasm dripping with word and amused glare.

“
I cannot hear you, dearest Shinayne, with all the laughter and all. Could you repeat that please?”
Gwenne smiled back, tears in her eyes and a rumbling in her stomach.

“
Oh just you wait, just you wait.”

“How bad is it? I cannot drink it, but tell me, is it truly
that foul
?” James was curious.

“Your problem was with the wine, James, you should be fine. And yes, it is the foulest thing a person could drink indeed.” Gwenne answered, leaning across Shinayne toward James amidst all the quieting commotion.

“Sure, you warn him after I get to try the
delicious and sweet version.
You are in for it my lady of Lazlette.” Shinayne smiled, keeping her composure intact. Her mind swam with plans at playful revenge. “Just you wait and see.”

Zen took a mug, breathed deep, and swallowed it all with his eyes closed. Tough, chewy, bitter and dwarven speak-mead it was, he had tasted it before. He slammed the steel to the stone, nodding to the smallborn gnomes, the dwarves had put their unfortunate of stature to kind use, much like they did in Boraduum. The foreign priest raised his hand in the simmering volumes of the thronesroom of Marlennak, eyes of the high hammer and the kings upon him.

“Great King Rallik, great King Therrak, High Hammer Brunnwik and gathered dwarven lords, I am Azenairk Thalanaxe and I am in yer’ thanks and debt for such hospitality. Me friends be my true company that---”

“What brings ye’ to our doors, all the way from the Bori Mountains, then?” The high hammer spoke, thudding his mug down after a fast drink of mead. He stood and sat just as fast, gray and red beard braided tight, bulbous nose over his mustache, and shaved head with a bit of sheen or oil to it.

“We traveled from Chazzrynn, on a great quest for the minotaur, and ourselves I s’pose. Ancient relic found in the south, needed to get to safety in Soujan Mountain, north of the Zuran there, in Harlaheim. We had some troubles there, some wars and such with surface folk and beasts, led Saberrak Agrannar o’ the Grays to be getting’ captured. We freed him in Devonmir, and well, got chased into these here mountains of the Misathi. Thanks to you and yours, Marshall Tannek and his lewirja friend, we are safe in Marlennak with ye’.” Zen bowed to the High Hammer, the leading priest of Marlennak who answered directly to the Moon Hammer of Vundren, in the sacred temple forge of Fazurand.

“I knew yer’ father, young Azenairk, knew him well. He done fought with our father in a few battles, sorry to hear o’ his passin’ and that you be all that is left o’ the Thalanaxes.” King Rallik smiled from his throne, thudding his hammer upside down when he was done speaking.

“Aye, I knew yer’ father and yer’ brothers, Vundren rest em’. I have a few daughters that be comin’ o’ age soon, if ye’ be thinkin’ o’ stayin here in Marlennak and holdin’ yer roots for growth. I could have ye’ meet---“ King Therrak was interrupted.

“Naah, naye! You was about what, ten or twelve when his brothers was here? Ye’ cannot remember yer’ crown half the time, doubtin’ yer’ mind remembers them t’all! And yer’ daughters, baah, speakin’ o’ beasts they is---“ Rallik was overpowered by the booming voice of his brother, the north king.

“I does so ye’ bleedin’ grayhair! Their names was Geadrik and Tadnek Thalanaxe,
hah
! And don’t ye’ be startin’ bout me daughters again! Ye’ be jealous cuz’ yer’ little king cannot make any future kings tis all! If ye’ knew how to use it---“ The king of the north was silenced by Rallik.

Dwarves now scattering to sides, half to the north, half to the south, in front of the thrones. Azenairk and company were on the south side with Drodun, watching the spectacle escalate. Mean looks, stares with iron faces and beard pulling began, and it looked as if the room would explode into battle.

“Ye’ better watch yer’ words little brother! That be no talk to a king, even from the younger king that our father,
Vundren rest him
, made a cute little throne for so he would stop his cryin’! Ye’ probably thought t’was a potty fer yer’ kingly shart and just sat---“ Rallik thudded his hammer over and over as he spoke, mirroring the pounding axe from across the room from Therrak.

“That be it! Ye’ done said it this time, I challenge ye’ words old brother! Let war decide it, I choose from yer side---“ Therrak waved his fist, pointing over the visitors who stood in shock.

“No gnomes and no women! Watch yer’ choice potlicker!” Rallik cautioned with a wave of his warhammer. He looked to the north side, picking out the youngest dwarf he could see.

“I know the rules mugsnuzzler, I know em’ better than ye’ do! I pick, him! That one there, he be on yer’ side Rallik, the one with the blue sash n’ the beard!” Therrak could not choose the women, the minotaur looked too big and could likely drink a ton. He thought of testing Azenairk or Drodun, but the human man was the obvious victory.

“And I choose, that one there,
young
master Droghinn, new Marshall o’ the Northern Outguard Scouts!” Rallik pointed to his man, and the dwarves and gnomes all clustered to the center of the room in a wave of stampeding commotion.

“
Vuumber, vuumber, vuumber!”
The chant of war began, Saberrak and Shinayne dove for their weapons, as did Zen. Gwenneth backed up, ready to cast something or throw up, she still was not recovered from the speak-mead. James stood still, not sure why all the dwarves from the north side and their king were all pointing at him. The companions were ready, blades and weapons drawn, stances set for a battle, even James Andellis finally grabbed his blade from the pile.

“What they doin’?” The High Hammer Brunnwik looked to them, then to Drodun Anduvann.

“
Oh, oh, no
! Not
that
kind o’ war me friends, naye, naye.” Drodun walked a few steps and eased them down, then waited until they relaxed and put their wares of war back to the table in the pile. Everyone was again staring at them.

“Sir James, ye’ are the chosen defender o’ King Rallik o’ the South and the Mountain. Ye’ have to take three meads, then three flasks o’ whiskey, faster than Marshall Droghinn there, or King Therrak wins. Ye’ can’t puke it, drop it, spill it, or stop. First one done, wins the war. Then the other king cannot be insultin’ the other for a week. Ye’ ready?” Drodun looked concerned, knowing that a human would likely not win over a dwarf, even a young one like Marshall Droghinn Duunimer.

“I cannot.” James thought of the wine, his pain, his past.

“Ye’ have to, it would be the worst insult ye’ could give to the kings, and to yer’ friends.” Drodun pleaded, not wanting any further fighting today or any more embarrassment. Everyone in the room was silent in stare at what looked to be, a human knight reluctant to drink in the very important traditional dispute between the kings of Marlennak. They had stopped actual fighting between families and clans long ago, this was their only way. They all began to whisper.

“I will not drink.”

“I will stand for him.” Saberrak stepped up to Drodun.

“Ye’ cannot, ye’ were not chosen. You neither Azenairk, nor you ladies. Law is the law.” The priest of the Cracked Wall hung his head. Never once had someone refused the war of the mug and flask in Marlennak. The whispers grew from throne to throne, each side talking louder.

Alden help me
.

James’ forehead was perspiring, his hairline and temples as well, and his left hand began to shake and tremble ever so slightly.

Alden, send me a sign, something.

“This here, is Sir James Andellis, Knight of Southwind Keep, Knight of Chazzrynn, and a very decorated soldier! Help him take the table for King Rallik now will ye’?!” Drodun did a bit of motivating, a little boost to the morale of this man.

Alden, anything. Woman’s voice, someone, something, please…

“Very well, this one time, and one time only.” James stepped forward to the table of mugs and flasks, face to face with Droghinn Duunimer, Marshall of the Northern Outguard Scout who defended King Therrak. Cheers went up to storm the ceilings, the stone shook, and the mugs rattled. James faked a smile, receiving a grim stare from his redbearded staunch opponent in return, then the same from his four friends. He knew exactly what they would say, what they were thinking, and what terrible past incidents at the hands of the bottle that were on their minds at this very moment.

The mead had an odor yet he could smell the spirits inside just the same. The whiskey flasks were open and the aroma of strong liquor hit his nose. His eyes relaxed, his heart fluttering like a hummingbird in heat, James felt it. The overwhelming powerlessness that told him
it was fine
, he
could
do this, he
wanted
to do this. He lifted his mug, same as Droghinn standing across from him, he raised it high to King Rallik behind him. The dwarves cheered and yelled, stomped and pounded, and James did not look to his friends.

The door opened, letting a fresh rush of air into the warming room, then a battle axe, a spear, and lastly a steel shield slammed ontop of the weapon pile on the left table. James turned, as did everyone else in the room. A dwarf in plate armor took a mug, drank it, and glared at Droghinn Duunimer.

Slam

“Ahhh, I see I do
, aye
. This is how it be then? The men o’ the North Outguard Scout be tryin’ to stab a cheap victory with their new Marshall! We all knows the Southern Outguard be the real dwarves o’ Marlennak, aye there
Droghinn!
How about ye’ step up against a real Marshall, if ye’ not be yellow n’ green all on the backside then?!” Tannek Anduvann, Marshall of the Southern Outguard Scout slammed his mug down, putting a new crack to the stone table to his right.

More pounding, stomping feet, rallying cries for Tannek to be allowed in the stead of the visiting human from Chazzrynn. The south side wanted their Marshall to step in, the north side said
nay
and wished for James to stay and take the table with Droghinn. The north wanted victory. The kings pounded their weapons to their thrones and all went quiet.

“Yer’ call, Marshall Droghinn, ye’ decide who be yer’ challenger then.” King Therrak nodded.

The pause lasted forever it seemed. Droghinn staring at James, then the grim look of Tannek staring back, and the moments turned long indeed. Victory over a human, or a challenge of honor against an older dwarf, north versus south, his pride hung in the balance.

“North Outguard don’t be fearin’ any scouts o’ the sissy south! Aye, I take yer’ challenge Tannek Anduvann! For King Therrak!” Droghinn raised his mug to the king behind him.

James was still, frozen with the mug next to his face, ready to drink. He felt a hand take his arm lower, Saberrak’s hand. Then the mug was removed from his grip, Zen took it and handed it to Tannek. James came to, snapped back to reality all of the sudden, he smiled, waved, and walked back by his friends.