The Fall of Dorkhun (16 page)

“We should get on the road after sunset,” she said.

“We’ll be ready,” he returned, adding wood to the stove.

“We’ll need to cut cross-country. I can find the way, even in the dark, but we’ll have to leave the cage and wagon here.”

“Really?” he asked, looking over his shoulder at her. “That a good idea?”

“No, but it’s safer than traveling the main roads.”

“I trust you.”

“I need a plate for Bressard,” she said pointing to the cooked meat. Leinjar placed a thin slice on a plate and handed it to her, along with a fork and knife. She took the food to Bressard and asked if he needed help. The old dwarf balanced the plate in his lap and slowly cut a bite. Even though the meat was tender, it took several tries to cut completely, but once he did, he lifted the bite to his mouth and smiled as he chewed.

“I can’t taste much anymore, but that’s good,” he said, cutting again.

“I’m glad you like it,” she said. Satisfied that he could manage on his own, she returned to the kitchen and spoke to Leinjar. “I’m gonna hide the wagon and ready the horses for the walk.”

“You two help her,” he said to the Tredjards without looking up from the stove.

They stopped working with the meat and followed her to the wagon. All three quickly rummaged through Torkdohn’s gear, searching for anything they might need to get to the gate, and once they had gotten everything they thought might be useful, they hitched the horses and drove the wagon to Bressard’s dilapidated barn. While the house needed minor repairs and debris cleared, the barn was beyond hope. Most of the boards on the southern face had come loose on one end and pointed to the ground in odd angles. The remaining few curled in a C shape, allowing light to pour into the stalls. One section of roof had collapsed, and the rest looked ready to follow. While the Tredjards unhitched the horses, Molgheon carefully pulled open the main stall door.

They cleared space for the wagon and then pushed it inside. Molgheon closed the door and followed the Tredjards, who were leading the two horses, back to the front porch. In a matter of hours, they would be on their way, and at that time, they would leave the cage on the back porch and secure the captives on the backs of these horses. By her estimation, they could make it to the gate in a couple weeks. Then, she would explain her decision to Leinjar and return home. She hadn’t used that word with any real meaning for years, but thinking it now made her smile. Stopping on the porch, she stared at the mountains and let the feeling of comfort wash over her.

Chapter 10

A Warning of Disaster

Krondious crawled into a grove of trees and curled into as tight a ball as he could in the shadows. The sunlight blinded him, causing his head to pound, and the smells of the forest overwhelmed him, sending waves of nausea through his stomach. When he had first emerged from the gate, the sky had been overcast, and while the light was more than he had ever experienced, it had been tolerable. Now, with no clouds to block the sun, it was too much. As he lay there, the king’s words echoed in his mind:

“Living in exile above ground is a far worse punishment for someone from the deep.”

At the time, he hadn’t fully understood, for like all dwarves of the deep, he had no reference for the brightness of the surface. There, sunlight was a reflection off a mirror, dim and subtle. Here, it was a relentless orb, blazing and unblinking. Blinded, he was defenseless for the first time in his life, and that terrified him. Not two hours before he had been the most feared Kiredurk in the kingdom, but now, he was reduced to a prone heap on the mountainside. Any predator could have made short work of him, and as he lay there, part of him wished for that relief.

But no predator came, and slowly, the sun descended behind the southwestern ridge. Twilight took the earth, and once the fierce light was gone, the pounding in his head eased. Famished and thirsty, he opened the pack the constable had left and found the waterskin. He drank heartily, thinking the water especially sweet, and ate a piece of dried beef. His stomach gurgled and churned, and the meager ration did little to quiet it.

As twilight faded into darkness, the mountainside crackled with nocturnal sounds. Tree frogs called their nightly chorus, and rodents scurried across dry twigs. Krondious had never heard such noises and couldn’t sit still for scanning around each time a new sound came. In the deep, he had laughed at jumpy dwarves, believing them cowards, and whenever he met one, he relished finding ways to scare them. Now, with the entire mountain alive with noises he’d never heard, he wished he had been a little less cruel and a little more understanding.

Realizing he would soon need food and water, he gathered his paltry supplies and started down the overgrown trail. Compared to the darkness of home, the path was well-lighted, so he had little trouble picking his way down the loose gravel. The signpost at the edge of the kingdom had indicated there would be a small township at the base of the mountain roughly eight miles away. When he reached the town, he could find a room to spend the day in, and after a good sleep, figure out what to do and where to go.

As he walked, he realized most of the sounds had diminished, and an eerie silence had enveloped the trail. The deep had places this silent, and he would often sit alone for hours and think about things. He had never fit in among his kin, and more often than not, he preferred solitude to the awkwardness of trying to conform. In the deep, the silence had felt natural, but here, even though he had never been on the surface before, it seemed amiss. He strained his ears for sounds of danger and peered into the forest for anything about to pounce.

Wind stirred the trees, causing shadows to dance in and out of the limbs, and between the motion and the smells, he was overloaded and unable to focus. It reminded him of being drunk but without the euphoria. He wished the constable had left an axe, a dagger, any weapon. Anything would have eased his sense of helplessness. As it were, he only had the small leather pack with the waterskin and a few strips of dried meat, nothing with enough substance to serve even as a small club.

Before him, a rock wolf stepped onto the trail, its silver hair bristling. It held its head near its front legs, staring at him with yellow eyes that flickered with hunger. Its teeth were bared and seemed to glow with faint light. Krondious froze mid-stride and held as still as he could, listening for the rest of the pack. Rock wolves sometimes made it as far as the deep, preying on livestock in remote regions, and one thing Krondious knew was they were rarely found alone. He braced himself and waited.

The one in front of him let out a shrill yelp, as if something had caused it pain, and Krondious started from the sound. At once, the others leapt from the forest and surrounded him, moving as a unit. He counted five, including the one blocking the trail, and with no weapon, he resigned himself to death. His only hope was that one would snap his neck early so it would be quick and painless, but he knew more than likely, his end would not be so gentle.

The one that had blocked him leapt forward and landed a foot in front of him, yelping again, flattening on the ground, and holding still. At the same instant, the one behind Krondious lunged, but instead of distracting him by lying on the ground, it sunk its teeth into his shoulder. Krondious groaned and dropped to his knees. The rock wolf tightened its grip, and a shriek burst from the prone dwarf. The other wolves moved in, nipping at his arms and legs, but luckily none of their bites found flesh, only the loose fabric of his clothes.

That night in the bar, he hadn’t meant to kill the farm boy. The whole scenario had started as a joke. He had only wanted to scare the boy, maybe rough him up a little, but when the kid had gone for a weapon, an instinct Krondious couldn’t control had taken over. From the moment the boy had touched his axe until the constable had locked him in the local jail, he had the sensation of being deep inside himself, and his body moved without effort, snapping the kid’s arm and sinking the axe in his belly. As dwarf after dwarf had tried to subdue him, a calmness he hadn’t felt before had settled on him, a peace he had never known. The memory, the unnaturalness of the sensation, disturbed him.

Now, with the rock wolf ripping his shoulder and the others moving in, that same calmness took over. He gathered himself and found his quiet center. He wasn’t afraid of death, but he wanted to live. There were still things he wanted to do.

Reaching across his torso and over his left shoulder with his right hand, he grabbed the one biting him and squeezed with all his strength. The wolf struggled for a moment, but then, its skull cracked with a loud pop and within a couple of heartbeats, it released its grip and went limp. Krondious flung its lifeless body away and, still using his right arm, grabbed the throat of the closest wolf. The animal sensed danger a moment too late, for as it struggled to escape, Krondious crushed its windpipe.

The remaining three retreated a few steps and regrouped, and Krondious clambered to his feet. His left shoulder throbbed, and he clutched his left arm against his ribs, trying to minimize the motion in his shoulder. The lead wolf leapt in front again, yelping its shrill, annoying bark once more, and the other two moved to each side, flanking the lone dwarf.

This time, he ignored the decoy and swung his right arm in a wide-sweeping backhand. He caught the wolf on that side squarely in its ribs, and from the force of his blow, the animal tumbled down the rise several feet. The one to his left grabbed his left arm with a solid bite, but as it sunk its teeth into his flesh, the dwarf swung his right arm back across his body and punched it directly in the jaw, snapping bones and crumbling the wolf to the ground. As it landed, he stomped its throat.

The decoy darted into the trees, moving down the mountain in the same direction as the one Krondious had sent tumbling. He scanned the forest’s edges, peering into the shadows for any motion that might warn of another attack. To his left up the slope, something stirred the branches as it moved down the hill towards him. He set his feet and braced for whatever foe might emerge from the trees. His shoulder screamed, the wound tightening as blood clotted and muscles tensed themselves. He dug his elbow against his ribs and gritted his teeth.

“Don’t be afraid,” a gentle voice said from the woods. Although barely a whisper, it seemed beside him. “I heard you cry out.”

“I’m fine,” he answered, his voice louder than he intended rolling down the mountainside.

“You’re an outcast?”

“What business is it of yours?”

“None, I suppose, but few Kiredurks wander this path, and fewer still survive the rock wolves alone.”

Krondious glanced at the dead wolves and back to the direction of the voice.

“May I tend to that shoulder?”

“I’m fine.”

From the shadows, a figure emerged, a sight unlike anything Krondious could imagine. He had seen few humans and fewer elves in the deep, but this person or creature or apparition was as close to elf as anything. As she glided towards him, her body seemed half-solid, half-mist, and vapor trailed her. Her skin and hair was light as fresh cream, but she was so shrouded in mist she was nearly opaque against the darkness. Krondious froze, trapped between terrified and infatuated.

“What’s your name?” she asked, pulling back the torn tunic and looking at his shoulder.

“I’m Krondious, from the deep.”

“My name is Aleichan.”

“Please, forgive my poor manners, but what are you?”

“Have you ever seen a cave troll in the deep?”

“Of course.”

“I am to the trees as the trolls are to the rocks.”

“I don’t understand.”

“That’s okay. This wound isn’t so bad,” she said, reaching into her tunic and taking out a small, leather pouch. With her delicate fingers, she opened the flap and took out a pinch of dried leaves. “These will help.”

Just above the wound, she rubbed her thumb and index finger in counter-circles against each other, grinding the leaves into a fine powder that coated the area. The dwarf’s skin tingled, but the sensation wasn’t unpleasant.

“Are you a ghost?”

“No,” she responded, laughing. “I’m as alive as you are. Let me see your forearm.”

Krondious held up his arm, and she repeated the process over that wound.

“Let’s walk towards town,” she said, returning the pouch to her tunic. “We can protect each other the rest of the way.”

Though she was slight and hardly an imposing presence, Krondious didn’t question that she could protect him. He retrieved his leather sack and resumed his march down the trail. She moved beside him, and while her legs moved in the form of walking, the motion was more like gliding.

“Why are you exiled?” she asked.

“Murder,” Krondious answered, staring down.

“It takes a lot of courage to admit that freely.”

“My life’s over. What’s it matter what anyone thinks of me?”

“Your life is just beginning, Krondious, from the deep.”

“I’m an outcast. My honor is gone.”

“Maybe one day you’ll reclaim it?”

“Maybe,” he huffed, showing disdain.

“Do you know what luck is?” she asked, her tone calm and patient.

“I don’t know anything.”

“Good. That’s a good place to start. Luck is when preparation meets opportunity. If you want to restore your honor, remember that.”