Journey into the Void (31 page)

T
HE DRAGON FLIGHT TO THE CITY OF SAUMEL HAD A STRANGE,
dreamlike quality to it for both dwarf passengers and the dragon who carried them. The dwarves, wrapped in warm sheepskin coats given to them by the Omarah, sat huddled together for warmth on the dragon's broad back, holding fast to a leather harness that Kolost had fashioned from the harness of his horse and attached firmly to the dragon's spiky mane.

Neither dwarf nor dragon spoke during the time they were airborne. As they soared over the land, the only sounds that could be heard were those made by the dragon—the creaking of tendons and the slow swish of her wings—and even these were stilled when Ranessa drifted upon the air currents. The dwarves marveled at the sights—towering trees sliding smoothly beneath, the dragon's shadow gliding across the ground below, the bright flash of sunlight reflecting off the smooth surface of a small lake.

Each dwarf was absorbed in his own thoughts. Kolost's were of conquest. He looked at the land of Vinnengael below and saw it teeming with dwarves. His ambitions were as broad as the horizon, and he was not daunted by the vastness of the world viewed beyond the tip of the dragon's wing. In his mind, Kolost galloped over his enemies, his dwarven troops riding to victory behind him.

Wolfram's thoughts were not as pleasant. He saw little of the land below, took no notice of the sky above. His gaze turned inward, to the reason he wasn't a Dominion Lord. And no one could convince him to
go back to being a Dominion Lord. Not even Kolost, no matter how often he spoke of it. As on this night.

After they landed, the dragon left them to go seek food and shelter. Bad enough, Ranessa told Wolfram, that she had to bear their company during the day. She needed to be alone at night, and so she often went off on her own, seeking out some cave or hollow or grotto where she could rest by herself.

Kolost had a way of ferreting out a man's deepest thoughts. He was that rare object—a good listener. He took an interest in all he heard. He did so for a reason. Not only did he learn by it, but, snared by his interest in them, people were inclined to share a bit too much of themselves.

Kolost, like any good hunter, spotted his prey from a distance, circled in on it, then pounced.

“Tell me of this Dunner,” said Kolost. “I know about the Children of Dunner, those children of the Unhorsed who are self-appointed guardians of the Sovereign Stone. But who is Dunner?”

Wolfram did not want to talk about Dunner or anything to do with the Sovereign Stone. But Wolfram was hoping to learn more from Kolost about the clan chief's plans, and in order to get, Wolfram had to give. Tit for tat as the saying goes among combatants, a blow for a blow.

“Dunner was the first dwarf ever to become a Dominion Lord,” Wolfram replied. “He was an Unhorsed. He lived in Old Vinnengael, spent most of his time in the Royal Library.”

Wolfram had to make a detour in order to explain to Kolost the concept of a library. Dwarves have about as much use for books as orks do.

Once libraries were established to his satisfaction, Kolost asked, “What did Dunner do in the library?”

“He read the books,” said Wolfram.

Kolost pondered this. “You say he was Unhorsed. Was he one of the mad ones?”

“Dunner wasn't mad,” Wolfram replied, defensive of his hero. “He was like you—interested in people. He learned a lot about people through book reading. All sorts of people: humans and elves and orks. He later put his lessons to good use.”

Kolost seemed struck by this. He pondered in silence for several moments, then said, “These books…What did they tell him?”

Wolfram gestured with a rabbit bone. “Oh, lots of things: books about
warfare, about strategy and tactics; books about plants, which ones are poisonous and which ones can be used to heal; books about the history. Because he read so much and gained more knowledge than any other dwarf who had ever lived, Dunner was chosen to receive the dwarven portion of the Sovereign Stone. He brought it back with him to the city of Saumel. Unfortunately—”

Kolost stopped him. “These books…Can you read them?”

“I can,” said Wolfram. “All the Children of Dunner are taught to read. Dunner taught the first, and they taught those who came after.”

“Go on,” Kolost said. “What happened to Dunner? Why did he become a Dominion Lord?”

“No one knows for certain,” said Wolfram cautiously. “One of the stories is that he hoped the Transfiguration would cure his crippled leg, and he could go back to riding again.”

“The Trans-fig-ur-a-tion,” said Kolost, sounding it out slowly. “This is the ceremony where the Wolf gives the Dominion Lord the magical armor. Tell me about it.”

“I can't,” said Wolfram. “We're sworn to secrecy.”

That wasn't quite true, but he wasn't about to relive that wrenching, searing pain.

“So what happened to Dunner?” Kolost asked.

“He became a Dominion Lord and his leg was cured, but he remained one of the Unhorsed. No one knows why. He had some great disappointment in his life. It was said that he befriended the young prince, Dagnarus, and was horrified when the prince turned to evil, became Lord of the Void. Dunner left Vinnengael and took the Sovereign Stone to the dwarven realms. He hoped that the Stone would help the dwarves grow strong, but”—Wolfram shrugged—“since it came from the hands of a human, our people didn't trust it.”

Kolost grunted, frowned, and shook his head at the stupidity of the dwarves.

“Dunner built a shrine for the Stone in Saumel,” Wolfram continued, “but few dwarves ever paid any attention to it. One day, Dunner found some children playing with the sacred Sovereign Stone—or so he thought. He was angry, until they told him that they were not playing with the Stone. They were the guardians of the Stone. Dunner was pleased by this, and it was then he left Saumel, never to return. It is said
that when the first Children of Dunner came of age, those who were called to be Dominion Lords went in search of him. Are you thinking you might become a Dominion Lord?” Wolfram asked slyly.

“Me? No,” said Kolost, looking shocked. “I mean no offense, and I hope you will take none, but in order to lead the people, I must win their trust and their loyalty, and I couldn't do that if I were a Dominion Lord. As you say, dwarves do not trust any gift that came from the hands of a human king.”

“But it didn't,” Wolfram argued. “The Sovereign Stone was a gift of the gods…er…the Wolf.”

“You know that, and I know that,” said Kolost, his eyes glittering in the firelight. “The Wolf told me that I must find the Stone and bring it back. Even though I will not become a Dominion Lord, I want dwarven Dominion Lords riding beside me. I want their strength, their wisdom—”

“Dominion Lords are not warriors.” Wolfram felt compelled to point out. “They are bound to peace.”

“Just so,” said Kolost. “After war comes peace. You dwarven Dominion Lords will help me keep what I gain.”

Wolfram scratched his beard, amazed and bemused by this remarkable man. Most dwarves never see beyond this night's sunset, as the saying goes. Here was one who saw beyond a lifetime of sunsets to a bright sunrise.

He had to correct a flaw in Kolost's thinking, though.

“You said ‘you' Dominion Lords,” said Wolfram. “Don't count me among them.”

“Why not, Wolfram?” Kolost asked. “What happened? Why did you give it up and flee?”

“I don't want to talk about it,” Wolfram muttered.

“But you already have. In your sleep. I know it has something to do with Gilda—”

“Stop!” Wolfram roared. He glared at Kolost.

“Who is she, Wolfram? Your mate?”

Wolfram shook his head. The pain ached, throbbed.

“Who then?” Kolost said softly.

“My twin sister. Gilda.”

Kolost was silent. If he'd said anything, Wolfram would not have spoken.
But he had to fill the silence. Otherwise, he would hear her voice. He had worked hard to banish the sound. He had filled his life with other voices so that he wouldn't have to hear it. Now, in the silence, he could hear her voice alone, and though it was far distant and he couldn't understand her, he knew that she wanted him to tell her story, their story.

“We were Children of Dunner. That's what you call us.” Wolfram gave a snort. “Children of wretchedness is more like it. You know what it is like to be the children of the Unhorsed. Their lives are empty and desolate, and that is the legacy they hand down to their children. You had the guts to refuse that legacy. You had the guts to leave.”

“You also refused the legacy, Wolfram,” said Kolost.

“I thought so,” Wolfram admitted. “When I first saw the Sovereign Stone, saw how beautiful it was, shining crisp and clean like a star on a bitter-cold night, I thought I'd found my calling. I told Gilda about it and took her to see it. We pledged ourselves to the Stone. We served it, guarded it, along with the other Children of Dunner. No one else cared about it, but it meant something to us—hope of a better life. We used to talk about becoming Dominion Lords, like Dunner, and traveling to all those wonderful, magical places we'd heard so much about from the traders who came to our city. And now I've seen 'em all,” he added softly, almost to himself. “Every one of them.”

He sighed deeply and remembered.

“All the Children start out wanting to become Dominion Lords, but few do. Most lose interest in the Stone when they reach their teen years. They think more of taking a mate, earning their way. But some are called. We were, she and I. Dunner came to us in a fire-vision and told us to seek his gravesite. The way was hard and long. Our trials were many. We succeeded because we were together. Neither of us could have done it alone. I knew we would be Dominion Lords together…”

He paused, swallowed, but that was only to moisten his throat. The words, the memories crowded thick on his tongue. Gilda was right. It was a relief for him to speak of this. He'd never done so, not until now.

“We wondered what the Tests would be, if they would be very difficult, for we'd heard stories from the human traders about the Tests their lords underwent. As it turned out, the search for Dunner's grave was the Test. He told us that. His spirit told us, that is. He spoke to each of us,
alone, and asked us if we were ready to undergo the Transfiguration. It was the proudest moment of my life…and of hers.”

Wolfram rubbed his aching forehead.

“I'm not a Dominion Lord.”

“You passed the Test…” Kolost prompted.

“The Wolf won't forgive me. I renounced the gods. I said terrible things to them. And I meant them, every one,” added Wolfram with a flash of ire. “After what they did…” He fell abruptly silent.

“What did they do?”

He didn't answer, at first. When he did, his voice was soft with fury. “Gilda wanted to be a Dominion Lord. She worked hard at it, twice as hard as I did. She was more worthy than I was. I went along with it mostly because of her. And they killed her for it. She died in the flames. I can still see her…still hear her cries…”

He could say no more. He bit his lip to keep the bile from bubbling up out of his throat. When he was in command of himself again, he looked up, defiantly.

“I gave her my medallion. It was hers by right. I placed it in the coffer with her ashes and buried it beneath the long grass of the plains of our homeland, beside Dunner's grave. Then I left, and I haven't been back.”

Kolost began to bank the fire, reverently performing the parts of the nightly ritual that are allowed to those dwarves who are caught benighted without a Fire magus present. That done, he wrapped himself in his blanket and went to sleep.

Wolfram dreamed that night that he heard Gilda calling to him to wake up, as she had done when they were children. When he did wake up, it was dawn, and she was not there.

 

The dwarves knew they had arrived in dwarven lands when they flew across the river the dwarves call the Arven, a name that was adopted by humans and is now found on human maps. The dragon flew over the city of New Vinnengael, giving Kolost the unique opportunity of gauging its defenses from the air. At his request, Ranessa even circled the city once, dipping her wings. Her appearance brought people running out of shops and houses to stare. Guards atop the battlements craned their necks to see. Ranessa claimed that she did it to give Kolost a good view, but Wolfram suspected that she was enjoying the attention.

Dragons were a rare sight on Loerem. Ranessa was probably the first most of these people had seen. So enchanted were they that some of the humans raced along the battlements, trying to keep them in sight. Wolfram amused himself by waving, though he knew that they couldn't see him.

“A large city,” Kolost announced. “With strong walls.”

Thinking he sounded daunted, Wolfram glanced back at him.

“The trick is to lure them out of those walls,” said Kolost with a wink and a grin.

Wolfram rolled his eyes, shook his head.

Once across the river, Ranessa turned south. She was not yet confident enough to fly over the high ridges of the Dwarven Spine Mountains, so she followed the Sea of Sagquanno, intending to come up on Saumel from the south.

Saumel was built into the side of a mountain gorge that overlooked Lake Saumel. Located near the Sea of Sagquanno, Saumel became the center of trade for the dwarven realm. Saumel was the only dwarven city with a harbor and the only dwarven city to welcome visitors of other races (although welcome might be too strong a word).

Members of other races were not permitted to dwell in Saumel, but tradesmen were allowed to keep temporary residences on the city's outskirts. Saumel was the only dwarven city where one could see humans and orks and elves walking the streets, although the outsiders were now supposed to keep to certain restricted areas.