The Demon's Blade (14 page)

"But why write them in the speech of the faeries?" Darien asked. "Why not just translate them to their own language?"

"Probably for the same reason the rest of this book is written with elvish letters," the old dwarf calmly explained. "The elves of legend were notorious for keeping their secrets to themselves. It was the elves who first brought writing to the other races. Their language was the first to be learned by the other races, and it became much like our common speech is now, easily read and understood by most anyone who could read at all. The elves most likely wanted to keep their prophecies secret, so that only they could read them."

"That does make sense," Darien shook his head. "Well, that's that, I suppose. We may as well give up on trying to read that book."

"Maybe and maybe not," the wise old dwarf responded, as he took the last puff from his pipe. "I’ve no idea whether any of the faeries know how to read any language, or how you might find one, but if you could, there’s a good chance you could translate this. You see, since the elves used their own letters, it's very likely that they attempted to reproduce the pronunciation as precisely as they could using the sounds of those letters. If I am correct, then the words should be pronounced exactly as their letters suggest. Then, you would only need to speak them to a faerie. Perhaps you might even find a faerie who could read it. There are some very old records that suggest there was a time when the faeries were far more involved in the affairs of the world."

"If the faeries still speak their own language, and if it hasn't changed so much that its ancient form is still understandable to them," Darien said.

"Here, I'll translate the elven letters into our own modern ones as best I can.” Tobin took out a quill and parchment, and wrote down the words. When he finished, he handed Darien the copy. “If you read this exactly as it sounds to a faerie, they may be able to tell you what it means. Before you ask, I've no idea where you might actually find a faerie. I know that this isn't what you were hoping for, but it's still better than nothing."

"I suppose it is, at that," Darien said.

"So, the prophecy is real? You said it was important?" Jerris asked, suddenly sounding hopeful again.

"Oh yes," Tobin smiled at the young half-elf. "This was of great importance, and whoever made this translation went to great lengths to keep it secret. The pages even have enchantments upon them to make them appear more worn to match the other pages of this book. If you don't mind me asking, where did you get this?"

"It was…," Jerris paused before continuing. "It belonged to my mother. She gave it to me. I didn't even believe the prophecy was real. I thought it was just a silly story that she made up to make me feel better about… well, about being an elf."

"On the contrary, whatever this says, the ancient elves believed it to be of great importance. You should keep it safe, as it was entrusted to you."

"I will." Jerris smiled and bowed awkwardly., "And thank you, sir. I am in your debt."

"Thank you Tobin," Darien added, as he too, stood up, and handed the old dwarf a few coins. "For your trouble. Now, we must be going. We must still buy supplies, and find a room to rest. We have a long journey ahead."

"Then I wish you goodbye, and safe journeys,"

With that, the two men headed out the door, and down toward the city. Afternoon had turned to evening, and the city was now quite dim, with the reflected sunlight replaced by the considerably less effective torches. The two half-elves wound their way back out towards the main plaza.

“Where are we going?” Jerris inquired.

"It's getting on in the evening. We'll have to find a suitable inn to rest.” Jerris nodded his agreement, and Darien led his charge down into the city, down all three ramps, then down again into the lower part of the city. The lower portion of the city looked very much like an inverted version of the upper, though lacking most of the decoration of the upper levels. The shops and inns here appeared humbler than those of the upper levels. The lower levels were where the common dwarves dwelt, and where much of the real business of the city was done. Warehouses of traders, filled with goods from everywhere in the world, dotted the outer walls. Here also were the massive stable complexes where horses, sheep, cattle, and oxen, as well as exotic beasts from foreign lands could be bought and sold. The massive ore depositories of the miners’ guilds dominated the lowermost sections of the city. As above, large ramps descended downward for three levels, with smaller ones below. At the bottom of the lower city, massive elevators ferried miners up and down from some unknown depth. The two half-elves continued along the spiraling path until they came to an arched stone door with a wooden sign hanging above it to display the name of an inn, The Monkey's Eyebrow.

"What a strange name for an inn," Jerris said. “What’s a monkey anyway?”

"Oh, well yes, it’s a strange name, "the other responded. "I've stayed here several times, but I've never heard where the name comes from. Monkeys are tree climbing creatures with long arms, legs, and tails. They live in the forests of the south. I’ve no idea how a place so far north got such a name. There aren’t any wild monkeys for hundreds of miles, although, if you really want to see one, there are probably some for sale in one of the menagerie shops. Either way, this is the safest place for us. The innkeeper doesn't ask for names and never remembers faces. That makes it ideal for anyone that doesn't want to be found.”

The two men walked in and sought out the innkeeper. Other than the fact it was, like so much of the rest of the dwarf city, hollowed out of the mountain, it was a very ordinary and friendly inn. Darien paid a few coins for a night’s stay, and the innkeeper, a friendly looking dwarf with an orange beard and long braided hair, led them to a small room near the back.

Both men took an opportunity to rest. Jerris collapsed on one of the beds while Darien found a wooden rocking chair and sat down, turning his mind towards the business of choosing where to go from here.

There were only two real choices. They could continue east on the Great Northern Road. This approach would take them straight into the lands of the Demon King, but this would hopefully also be the way Avirosa least expected them to go. The task then would be to slip through Mandala Fortress and into the lands of the east, then south to the sea, where it would be easy enough to secure passage on a trading ship. The other choice was to take the underpass to the southwest then make for Galad. A more direct route, certainly, but the underpass was all but abandoned, and the Craglands were a labyrinth of high ridges and steep canyons, where a traveler could easily become lost for months if he was foolish or desperate enough to leave the road. Neither option particularly appealed to the cautious mind of the Executioner, but with winter oncoming, these were the only choices he had.

A few minutes later, a serving wench appeared in the doorway with a tray of warm bread and soup. Jerris roused almost instantly from apparent sleep at the smell of food, and the two men were able to enjoy a warm meal for the first time since Kantu. Jerris had already eaten half the food by the time he bothered with any conversation.

“So where are we going tomorrow?”

“I haven’t decided,” Darien slowly confessed.

“You haven’t decided? Why not?”

“We have two choices, and I don’t particularly like either of them.”

“And what would those be?”

“Well, if you must know, we can either continue east along the road to Mandala Fortress, or head south through the underpass.”

“Mandala Fortress? The underpass? I’ve never heard of either place.”

“That’s hardly surprising,” Darien scoffed at the ignorance of his companion and started gently rocking in the chair. “You don’t seem to know much of anything useful. Mandala Fortress is a secret fortress in the mountains at the source of the Saldean River, where the river emerges from underground. A group of mages weave the enchantments upon the waters that keep the Demon King’s armies on the east side of the river. It’s heavily defended, but if we got past, we could slip into the disorganized small kingdoms east of the river, then make our way south to the sea. I know those lands well,” Darien rubbed his chin, which was already beginning to cover with dark stubble. “The disadvantage is that the Demon King claims lordship over those lands, and his servants operate openly. The human kingdoms there pay hefty tribute and acknowledge his claim, but they don’t serve him directly, and he has many enemies there who would gladly aid us, but we’d have to be exceptionally careful. The journey would take several months, but it is probably the less dangerous choice for now. The present threat is Avirosa, and he wouldn’t expect me to try that.”

"And the other choice, the underpass?"

“The underpass is an underground highway that leads south and west for many miles before emerging in an area known as the Craglands. From there, we would go southwest towards the Silver Mountains, then take the pass at Galad, a quicker and more direct route, but also a dangerous one.”

“That sounds a lot better to me. What’s wrong with it?”

“The problem is the terrain. The underpass is a closed tunnel with no means of escape. If Avirosa has set a trap there, we’d have no way to avoid it except to turn back. The Craglands are nearly as bad, a vast maze of high ridges and steep canyons. We’d have to keep to the road, giving Avirosa still more opportunities to ambush us. I don’t know those lands well, and if we were forced off the road, we might never find our way back. On top of all that, the only pass west over the Silver Mountains is Galad, which we might be held against us.”

“I still like the idea of the most direct path,”

“That’s because you’re young and foolish. The shortest path isn’t always the best, or the least dangerous.” Darien shook his head in frustration. “Then again, there are risks with either choice. We may be doomed either way.”

“What a comforting thought. I’ll sleep much better now,” the younger half-elf rolled his eyes, sarcastically, but his words chiding went ignored. The Executioner simply rocked slowly in his chair, lost in his own thoughts. With the food gone and the conversation ended. Jerris laid on the bed and slept. Darien simply dozed intermittently, facing the difficult choice.

The evening passed slowly, and sleep eluded him, as it often did. Near midnight, he finally gave up and headed out to the front room of the inn, sat down at the bar, and ordered a dwarven ale, not for the alcohol but rather to avoid appearing suspicious. The room had nearly emptied, and only a few patrons remained. The Executioner surveyed the room, and listened to the conversations, hoping to obtain some useful information.

For about an hour, he listened to tedious conversations about the vagaries of dwarf politics, useless gossip about local goings on, and the ever present meaningless discussion of the weather. The tired half-elf was nearly ready to give up, when a dwarf trader who had been droning on about some tax or another to a spindly man who seemed only vaguely interested abruptly turned the conversation to his destination, Mandala Fortress. A few meandering sentences later, the man let slip that he had just come from there, and that he had left just before the fortress was closed.

Closed! The words shocked the eavesdropper. Something must be very wrong to the east if Mandala was closed. It had only been closed a handful of times in its long history, and always for the same reason, the threat of an attack. From the beginning, the Order of the Golden Shield had understood that the fortress was far from reinforcements, so they had built it to withstand a siege of months, or even years. The dwarf designed fortress was all but impregnable when on alert. Darien drank deeply from his mug of ale, wondering what was going on. Unfortunately, the spindly man gave him no further clues, and the dwarf seemed not to be interested in pressing the issue. Whatever the reason, with the fortress closed, there would be no way to cross the Saldean, and going north around it would be walking straight into the lands of the goblin hordes. The Executioner scowled inwardly, realizing he now had only one choice.

Chapter 13: The Underpass

The night at the Monkey’s Eyebrow Inn dragged by slowly for Darien as he pondered the turn of events. He thought of asking the bartender if he’d heard anything about Mandala Fortress, but decided against it. Asking odd questions leaves a firmer impression on memories, and passing through the city unnoticed was far more important than simple curiosity. The calculating strategist now knew he could not take that path, and nothing else was relevant.

He returned to his room, and spent the remainder of the night dozing in the rocking chair. When the clock in the main room chimed six bells, the Executioner decided it was time to waken his sleeping companion.

"Jerris," he spoke, attempting to wake the still sleeping youth. "Jerris, wake up." The lad stirred and rolled over in his bed, but did not awaken. "Jerris!" He spoke louder, but still to no avail. Finally, he threw a cup of water on the sleeper, who suddenly bolted upright in bed.

"What, what happened?"

"It's time to get moving," Darien said in a commanding voice as he glared down into the young man’s blinking eyes.

"Did you throw water on me?"

"Yes, I did. I couldn't get you to wake up. Next time wake when I ask and I won't have to do that."

"Wake when you ask? How am I supposed to do that?"

"You must learn to sleep lighter, and be alert for danger," the somber Executioner said flatly. "If I couldn't wake you, an enemy could slit your wrists in your sleep and you'd bleed to death before you noticed."

"Are you serious? How am I supposed to learn to sleep lighter, or be alert when I'm sleeping?" Jerris seemed even more confused than before. 

"Well, the Shades learned by attacking one another in our sleep. We weren’t allowed to actually kill each other of course, because that wouldn’t have taught anyone anything. Instead the goal was to inflict as much pain as possible. The apprentices learned quickly to sense a threat even in their sleep. Pain can be an effective teacher. Though I am using water instead of steel and magic, I hope to achieve similar effect."

"Thanks for just using water, I guess," Jerris said with a sarcastic smirk. “What did you decide?”             

"We’ll take the underpass. The other path is closed to us now."

“What? You said yesterday that was more dangerous, and what do you mean the other path is closed?”

“I went back out to the bar while you slept, and overheard a conversation. Mandala Fortress is on alert, and they’ve closed all the gates. They won’t open them again for months, until whatever threat has passed, most likely not before spring at any rate. Now let’s get going. We've wasted enough time as it is."

Jerris got his things together and they headed out into the city. Darien bought his usual traveling fare, dried meats, hard cheeses, flatbread, and hardtack. He caught his young companion grimacing more than once during his shopping. No doubt the lad had never traveled so far from home before, and was unaccustomed to the hearty but unappealing foods used by travelers. He chuckled to himself. His charge’s youth and inexperience continued to be a source of amusement.

The journey to Galad would take about a week and a half with horses. Even on the road, the rugged terrain would nearly double that time on foot. There's just no way round it, Darien thought. It will cost most of the coin I have left, but without horses, Avirosa is likely to catch us in the Craglands no matter how hard we push ourselves.

His mind made up, he went to the nearest stables in the lower city. A fat, brown-bearded, middle-aged dwarf stood amongst several decent looking animals. No doubt these were the best he had to offer, and there were more in back which might be less expensive. "What are we looking for here?" Jerris asked. "I can carry my share of the supplies. We don't need a pack animal."

"No Jerris, we don't," Darien explained. "But the land we will be traveling through is quite difficult, and we must move fast if we are to stay ahead of our pursuers. We cannot stay ahead of them on foot, so I am looking for two horses, of course."

"Can you afford that?" Jerris asked in an incredulous tone.

"Yes, I can," the other calmly countered. "I make it a point to be prepared for situations like this, although I never imagined I would need to buy a second horse, so this will use up almost all my coin. We will have very little to buy supplies further on, so we will be living rough for the remainder of the journey, until and unless I can find a way to make some coin."

"We should save our money then, I think," Jerris started shifting nervously, while clenching and unclenching his fists. "I don't like the thought of being caught, but I like the thought of starving in the wilderness even less."

"Starving in the wilderness is likely to be the more pleasant option, honestly," Darien remained blunt as usual, but he immediately noticed Jerris had begun to fidget in his familiar manner, and as the observant mage had discovered, this generally meant he was preoccupied with something. "What is it, now?"

"It's just that… well, I don't know how to ride a horse." Jerris finally stammered out.

Darien let out a long sigh as he looked down and rubbed his temples. "Is that all? Well, then you will learn to ride one today." Jerris' expression did not change and his fidgeting continued with the same feverish intensity. Darien frowned and spoke sternly. "If minor difficulties like this are going to bother you, then what do you expect to do when we face real danger? You'd best get accustomed to mastering your fears. If learning to ride a horse is the most frightening experience you have while accompanying me, you’ll have been fortunate beyond measure." Jerris appeared unmoved, now trembling slightly, so Darien paused a moment and scratched his stubbly chin thoughtfully. "I can always leave you here, I suppose. Tobin may be willing to help hide you for a time, and I doubt Duke Parham will even bother to look for you beyond his own borders."

"No, no," the lad said, drawing on some hidden reserve of resolve. "I'm sorry. You're right. I don't want to be left here. I don't know what I'd do anyway. I have no money and no home. Besides, now that I know the prophecy is real, I have to see this through."

"Alright then. For what it's worth, I'm sorry you're involved in this at all."

"Don't be," Jerris said. "I brought you into it as much as you did me. The truth is that I wanted you to help me rescue mother when you first saved me from those thugs. If you hadn't offered, I would have asked anyway. I had already thought of offering the talisman when you showed interest in it. So it would have ended up just the same anyway. I don't regret it, and I'm not sorry I met you. I could do worse for a guardian." Jerris smiled warmly at the man he now called his guardian, and the cold Executioner, unaccustomed to such a show of affection, smiled back as best he could.

With the matter resolved, Darien went up to the fat dwarf, and asked to be shown around. After the usual amount of haggling, he selected two horses. The first, named Cloud, was a young, and somewhat unruly, gray colt he selected for himself. For the inexperienced rider, he chose the most passive and peaceful looking animal, an old roan colored mare named Terra.

With the supplies and horses bought, it was time to be off. Darien first helped Jerris up to his horse, and instructed the lad in the basics of horsemanship. Then he got up on his own horse and started forward. Jerris managed to get his horse moving and Terra quickly seemed to follow Cloud without much instruction.

The two men made their way down to the second level and towards a dim tunnel which broke off from the main path on the right. Just inside the doorway, an iron portcullis barred the way forward. A dwarf guard arrayed in black iron armor emerged from a guardhouse built into the mountain to the right of the gate. "Who goes?" the dwarf asked in a lazy tone.

"Just two travelers heading towards Galad," Darien replied. "May we pass?" The dwarf held out his hand, and the questioner handed him a single silver coin from a now nearly empty sack.

"Very well then," the dwarf lazily continued. "May your journey be profitable." Then the dwarf disappeared back into the guardhouse and the iron portcullis rose into the ceiling.

The two riders passed into the dim underpass. The only light was produced by widely spaced magical torches, which illumined as the travelers approached, then faded again once they had passed, more than enough light for the sure footed horses and the elf eyes of their riders. The road led straight onward, with a slight downward slope. Darien kept the horses at a steady walking pace, turning round every so often to check on his companion, who, fortunately, had little difficulty managing the horse. The lights of the city and the guardhouse faded into the distance a bit more each time the older half-elf turned around. After an hour or so, the lights had become nothing more than an orange glow behind them. Darien was about to turn round again, when Jerris unexpectedly appeared beside him.

"Worried about riding a horse, were you?" he ribbed his companion. Jerris offered no response but a sheepish smile, and Darien turned his eyes back to the road.

"Well, now that we're off, and there's no one around, I thought it would be a good chance to talk. There are some things I've been meaning to ask you," Jerris said in a serious tone.

I wonder what ridiculous questions he will ask me today, Darien thought, then he replied. "Well, this is as good a time as any, I suppose. There's not much else to do."

"First, why are we the only ones on this road?"

"This pass was built a very long time ago," the more experienced traveler explained. "As I understand it, these lands were once much more prosperous. Several centuries ago, the Demon King managed to unite the goblin hordes of the north. He hoped to bypass the magical barrier on the river Saldean by going north of Mandala Fortress, where the enchantments on the Saldean are created.”

“He started the Great Goblin War in an effort to take control of the regions of Vorstal, Rostog to the East, and the area now known as the Craglands. He had hoped the dwarf kingdoms would turn upon each other, and even sent spies to sew discontent among them, but the strategy failed completely. The dwarves united in their resistance, and the Order of the Golden Shield guessed the Demon King’s purpose, and sent aid to the north. Faced with the prospect of all-out war with both the dwarves and the Golden Shield, the Master abandoned his goblin allies and they were decimated.”

“Still, the war ravaged most of the northlands east of Stalag. There were goblins inhabiting the Craglands for a hundred years after the war, and trade moved from the southern route to the northern."

"Thanks for the history lesson," Jerris rolled his eyes, making no effort to hide his sarcasm. "You could have just said we're the only people who actually want to go through a dark empty tunnel to get to a barren wasteland."

"You should pay attention," Darien said. "You can learn a lot from history. There are usually reasons that things are as they are, and many of them are buried far in the past. You must learn to examine the world more closely. For now, focus on the present. The underpass is dangerous enough, so be wary."

After that, Jerris was quiet for a while, yet his companion could tell there was still something on the boy’s mind. It had not escaped Darien's notice that Jerris had been eyeing the Demon Sword on his back ever since Tobin had made his careless comment the day before. I will have to tell him sometime, Darien reasoned, as the sword is dangerous by its very nature. Jerris must be made to understand that if I'm forced to use the sword, he will have to flee, and make his way on his own. I suppose I’ll wait until he summons up the courage to ask himself.

After a while, Jerris spoke again. "Tobin said that book was written in fae speech, and that a faerie might be able to translate it, right?"

"Yes, that's right. What about it?"

"Well, do you think we'll be able to find one, a faerie I mean? I've never seen one or even heard of anyone having seen one. Have you met many?"

"I can't say that I've ever met a faerie, but then I've never really looked for one either. The Master was never very concerned with them, so shades like myself were never taught much about them."

"So where would we look for them?"

"I honestly don't know," the other answered frankly. "I'm sorry, Jerris. I didn't say anything at the time because I didn't want to insult Tobin, but we're nearly as likely to wander into the lost city while looking for a faerie as we are to actually find one to translate this."

"You mean we're not any closer than we were before?" Jerris hung his head dejectedly. "I thought we had made some real progress."

"Try not to be discouraged," Darien countered. "Before we spoke to Tobin, we, and you in particular, weren't even sure the prophecy was anything more than a made up story. Now we know that something important is actually written there. We just can't read it. I'd say that is significant progress."

"Well, yes, I guess you're right. I hadn't thought of it that way."

"Well, you did actually,"

"Yesterday, you got quite excited when you first realized the prophecy was real. You even said so."

"Well, yes, I suppose I did. What's your point?" Jerris’ irritation seemed to be increasing.

The more experienced half-elf ignored his young companion, pretending he had not said anything. He paused a few seconds, then resumed. "Again, just now, when I told you that we wouldn’t be very likely to find a faerie, you immediately reacted quite strongly. What do you suppose those two things have in common?"