The Trees And The Night (Book 3) (9 page)

“We will slow,” said Granu. “I believe the scribe acts in good faith. The Ulrog do not follow. If you are to survive, we must pace ourselves in this thin air.”

The slower pace allowed the Guardsman to gather himself. Soon his color improved and the pain receded. Sorrow gripped him. He glanced to the Keltaran trudging up the slope beside him.

“She died with honor,” said Cefiz finally.

The giant’s eyes did not leave the trail.

“She died with honor,” slowly repeated the giant in affirmation.

Cefiz stopped and turned to the Keltaran.

“She could have left at any time,” protested Cefiz. “Escape was possible, yet she chose to stay.”

Granu halted and faced the Guardsman.

“I do not offer false comfort, my friend,” stated Granu laying a hand on Cefiz’s shoulder. “You assessed her character correctly. She was loyal. She died with honor.”

The lieutenant nodded in agreement. He was satisfied. The pair moved upward again and entered another ravine cut high upon the mountain. On either side the walls of a steep “V” rose within the peak of Hdjmir.  It was still, dark and cold. A dead place. Granu and Cefiz crept forward through the darkness.

“It may seem colder within these shadows,” stated Granu, “but in the evening the walls of this ravine will shield us from the wind and we will thank Avra for them.”

Cefiz grunted his agreement. It seemed as if they moved into the heart of the mountain itself, but Cefiz looked above and noted clouds drifting over a fissure of gray light a thousand feet overhead. The walls of the ravine rose so steeply, Cefiz nearly stumbled from vertigo. The air grew more still the further they advanced and a feeling of confinement came over the Guardsman.

Fifty paces ahead a more palpable darkness loomed within the shadows of the ravine. As they approached, it took shape. Long ago, someone chiseled, pried and spilled the walls of the ravine onto the path, creating a dense wall of broken rock. Its jumbled mass rose like a sentinel before them, barring their way. Huge boulders lie hurled down upon huge boulders. Their eyes fought the semi darkness and strained to determine what they viewed.

“There is writing,” murmured Granu.

Cefiz stepped closer and inspected the markings. Scrawled on the boulders and walls of the ravine were the chaotic symbols. They were deeply etched in the rock by stone or steel. The name of Amird jumped from the walls everywhere one looked.

“I do not like the look of this,” coughed Cefiz. “We are safe from the wind but I do not wish to tarry here. We should rest and decide our next move.”

Granu moved closer and inspected the writing quietly. Cefiz waited a moment then anxiety overtook him.

“This place is surely a crossroads for evil. The Ulrog call for their master here. They rally here to build courage.”

Granu eyed the writing critically.

“I see it with a different eye,” stated the monk finally. “I read a fear of this place in the hearts of the Ulrog. That which lies beyond this wall engenders that fear. They call on their masters to offer them protection and strength against the other side.”

The giant stared at the wall a moment longer then addressed the Guardsman.

“You are weak and the ravine affords us the greatest protection we are likely to find. The Ulrog have not followed us thus far,” said Granu turning to face the wall of broken stone. “I must see what is beyond the barricade.”

Cefiz hesitated then nodded as he laid a hand on the Keltaran’s shoulder.

“Take care,” warned Cefiz.

Granu smiled and began to scale the wall. The climb was treacherous. The heavy giant dislodged many loose stones as he headed upward. The rock tumbled down, creating a reverberation of echoes within the ravine. He looked down to see Cefiz move back with concern on his face.

“Perhaps it is you who need take care,” called Granu over his shoulder playfully.

Cefiz smiled and waved in return. The Guardsman still looked weak. Granu already questioned his decision. After ten minutes of difficult climbing, he stood atop the great barrier of stone. Below him to the North, the ravine’s trail continued up the slope toward the summit of Tar Hdjmir. It narrowed as it advanced, darkening even further.

Granu looked to the sky. The walls of the ravine still towered above him. The fissure of sky could be seen and the day grew long as the light faded. Granu descended the opposite side of the stone barrier.

The stillness grew tenfold. Neither wind or sound entered the ravine. It was effectively walled shut. Granu stepped forward, the granite walls drawing closer with every step. In the hazy light ahead, the walls converged upon a massive stone block set in the side of the mountain.

The block was unlike the boulders strewn upon the path behind him. Those massive cuts of rock were crudely hewn. The monolith before the giant was crafted with care. Its edges were assuredly shaped with masonry tools and it sat fitted within the mountain’s wall.

The stone slab stood slightly taller and wider than the Keltaran prince. Its outer surface jutted a full foot from the wall and Granu assumed much of the stone lay buried within. He ran his fingers along its edges. The tight fit within the mountain amazed him. Whoever placed the stone here spent a good deal of time fitting the slab.

Granu moved around to check the opposite edge and stumbled over a clutter at his feet. He bent down and found a scattering of torches and iron pry bars in the darkness. The prince retrieved an old, dust-covered torch and inspected it. An oily glob of pitch still covered one end and after a few minutes with tinder and flint the giant ignited the torch.

He ran the light about the tight enclosure and discovered a crevice for the torch handle in the mountain wall. Granu inserted the torch and continued to inspect the stone slab. Finally, the prince grasped both edges of what he determined must be a doorway.

With tremendous effort the Keltaran pulled on the slab. Nothing. He edged to the right and laid a shoulder onto the stone’s corner. Granu dug in his feet and pushed. Still nothing. His anxiety grew. He quickly searched the ground and snatched up an iron pry bar. He ran it along the seam of the doorway but the accurately crafted masonry allowed no hold for the tool.

Once more the giant faced the slab and locked his hands on the stone. His fingers pressed into its smooth surface and Granu tugged mightily. Nothing. Sweat poured down his brow and the ravine echoed with his grunts and groans. His chest heaved and the veins on his brow pulsed as he strained again.

“Countless Ulrog have been sent here to waste their efforts on the stone,” rumbled a voice behind the prince, “yet none could prevail. The stone would never move for them, just as it will not move for you, Granu of Keltar.“

Granu spun to see the Delvin Prelate standing behind him supporting Cefiz. The Guardsman weakly smiled at his comrade.

“You assisted Cefiz over the barrier,” stated the prince.

“Twas but a simple task for an Ulrog. We are born of stone and know its ways.”

 “What of the Malveel and his Hackles?”

“I informed Amird’s hunter that you were sent to the heights of Tar Hdjmir. I also informed him that you shall never return down the path whence you came.”

Granu narrowed his eyes at the Ulrog.

“He posted three packs at the junction to see that it is so,” continued Nostr. “They are content to allow you to starve to death or let you die from exposure. The great worm moved on.”

Granu nodded his head in acknowledgment then glanced back at the stone slab.

“I cannot move the stone,” stated the prince.

“That is because it is not your task. It will move for only one,” replied Nostr.

“How do you know this?”

“Because I have foreseen it,” said the prelate.

Granu ground his teeth.

“Who is the one?” asked the giant.

“I am,” replied the Ulrog calmly. “It is my reason for being.”

The stone man moved toward Granu and lightly dropped Cefiz upon him. Granu caught the Guardsman and stumbled away from the stone, taking Cefiz to a place near the ravine’s wall. The Ulrog stepped forward and raised his hands in the air. He looked to the fissure of gray sky above and began a soft, low chant. At once the chant was familiar yet foreign to Granu. It carried the tone and cadence of many he performed in the Monastery of Awoi, but was voiced with the harsh grating language of the stone men.

Nostr’s sleeves fell to his shoulders as he held his hands aloft. The symbols of Chaos and the name of Amird covered his deeply scarred and powerfully muscled forearms. The icy mists of the Hdjmir parted and a faint light filled the mountain hollow. Nostr threw his head forward slamming his chin to his chest. The black claws of his rock encrusted hands hammered into the edges of the stone monolith. Rock chips sprayed the walls of the ravine, as well as Granu and Cefiz. The men covered their eyes as the Ulrog ground his hands into the slab’s sides.

Granu blinked and his vision returned to the Ulrog as the light filling the hollow around the creature intensified. Nostr’s entire body stressed and quaked as his fingers bore into the sides of the stone doorway. The ravine filled with a hiss as the stone quivered and edged away from its surrounding wall. Nostr’s hands were buried deep within the rock now and the beast’s teeth cracked and crumbled as his tightly set jaw fought against the weight of the stone.

The air within the ravine swirled as it was sucked into the cavern beyond the stone. Dust and debris filled the air with a brown haze. Slowly the stone crept from the wall.

Within a few moments the wind quieted and Nostr released the stone, collapsing to the ground in exhaustion. The Ulrog scribe knelt before a two-foot wide passageway into the mountain. The dust settled around the trio. Granu stared past the opening into a black hole in the side of the mountain. The Keltaran prince turned back to the scribe, unsure of what to do. Nostr remained on the ground, his head thrown forward in exhaustion.

“Go,” rasped the stone prophet as a bloodied hand weakly motioned to the opening.

Granu looked to Cefiz and the Guardsman nodded his approval. The Keltaran prince moved forward and retrieved the torch from the ravine wall. Cautiously he stepped into the heart of the great mountain itself.

The light from the torch bled onto the walls of a rough-hewn chamber. No ornament or device adorned the walls. Essentially it was a cave, sealed from the outside world by the great door set in its opening.

Granu’s eyes fought for focus in the consuming darkness of the chamber. The torch held before him did as much to blind him as to illuminate the cavern. The giant moved toward a large, rectangular shape.

A tall stone dais lay carved into the center of the cave. It stood as tall as the giant’s chest and equally as long. The light danced across tattered strips of cloth and dust covered furs. Granu moved closer. The giant knew this place and his eyes drank in all before him.

A body lay tightly bound beneath the strips of cloth and an ancient bearskin lay across its lower half like a blanket. In its hands, the dead clutched a simple woodsman’s ax, the head glistening in what appeared to be fresh blood. The upper half of the body was exposed and where the cloth was split or desiccated, Granu could see the shriveled, gray flesh of the corpse.

The Keltaran prince edged forward and held the torch light toward the head of the body. Cloth completely wrapped the face and the head lay on a bed of dried flowers. Emotion overwhelmed Granu. He stepped back. Who could have imagined that his journey through exile would one day lead him here?

The light flickered off the face of the dais. The giant noticed writing. He brought the torch down and inspected the stone. The writing appeared as fresh as when it was first wrought in the surface of the dais. Broad, bold letters called across the centuries.

YOU WHO ENTER THIS SACRED PLACE TAKE HEED

HERE LIES AWOI, A CHOSEN OF AVRA

DRIVEN FROM THE PEOPLE

SLAIN BY ONE HE LOVED

TOO FULL OF BEAUTIFUL THOUGHT

TO HARM ANOTHER.

IN DEATH HE EMBRACES HIS DEFENSES TOO LATE.

BEWARE THE HAND OF DISCORD

WHEN BROTHER TURNS ON BROTHER

WHEN YOU ARE DRIVEN FROM YOUR LAND

WHEN THE MINIONS OF DECEIT MARCH

AND CONQUER THE BEAUTIFUL NIGHT.

BEAUTIFUL THOUGHT WILL NOT WIN THE DAYLIGHT

WITHOUT EMBRACING THE MEANS TO DEFEND ITSELF

Granu slowly read the stone and dropped to his knees. He reeled, weak and faint. He closed his eyes and bowed his head.

“How could she have known?” murmured Granu to himself.

“Avra works through those who follow him. She may not have known when she carved these words, but her message speaks to you across centuries,” came the reply from the cavern’s opening.

Granu turned to see Nostr slowly moving into the tomb supporting Cefiz. The Ulrog halted, propping the guardsman against an interior wall. Granu stood and faced the Ulrog.

“She asks me to break vows. She asks me to .... to ...” stammered Granu.

“She tells you to defend yourself,” replied Nostr.

“By taking up arms against my own people ... my brother?” pleaded the prince.

“By siding with the righteous against injustice,” returned Nostr flatly.

The pair faced off, staring into one another’s eyes.