The Dwarf Kingdoms (Book 5) (32 page)

“I wish to warn you,” he whispered solemnly, “that my companion is uncommonly fierce and bad tempered. He is already planning to have the gate captain’s head. I would not like to see anyone else suffer the same fate.”

“Thank you for the warning,” Herma whispered back gratefully. “I will pass it on.”

After the commander of the fortress hastily retreated, Elerian entered the bathhouse, his eyes gleaming with mischief, and shed his clothes. After a long soak in copper tubs to wash off the blood and grime of the battlefield, fresh clothing was brought for him and Ascilius. There were soft brown pants of linen, white linen shirts, and velvet tunics with hoods; green for Elerian and sky blue for Ascilius. Wide belts made of silver links and soft leather shoes for their feet completed their outfits. Last of all, they were given soft leather thongs to tie back their hair which Elerian wore down to his shoulders and Ascilius wore halfway down to his waist. His flowing beard, Ascilius left loose over his chest, tucking the end of it into his belt to contain it.

“You can hardly see the gap in your beard anymore,” said Elerian innocently. Ascilius immediately frowned, carefully rearranging his prized beard to cover the now barely visible hole Elerian had burned through it on the plains of Tarsius.

When Herma suddenly appeared to call them for dinner, he was startled at the transformation in the two companions. Elerian’s face still looked that of a middle-aged man, worn by his labors, but his gray eyes shone with power and knowledge. Washed clean of the grime of battle and properly dressed, Ascilius, with his dark eyes and noble countenance, now looked the descendant of kings.

Herma bowed deep. “Follow me my lords,” he said and meant it.

Leaving behind all their war gear except for their weapons, Ascilius and Elerian followed Herma, the old Dwarf’s eyes straying often to the great silver inlaid hammer carried by Ascilius and to the silver hilt of Elerian’s sword. Word had already spread concerning the magical weapons the two of them carried and the deeds they had done with them.

Eventually, Herma led Ascilius and Elerian to a great, rough-hewn room with a polished floor. Suspended by chains, iron fixtures hung from the high ceiling, each one bearing mage lights that lit the room with a golden glow. Flanked by rude benches, great oak tables were scattered about the room, one of them heavily laden with food and drink.

“We do not have the finery here that you will find in the city,” said Herma worriedly to Ascilius, “for this is only a rough fortress.”

“The banquet you have set makes up for all,” said Ascilius happily.

He and Elerian sat across from each other at the table that had been prepared for them and set to at once. There was ale, dark and strong, and several meats: venison, wild boar, and a great roast of beef. White bread, butter, creamy yellow cheese, and all the fruits of the season filled the polished golden oak boards between them. There was also red and white wine. Herma and two attendants hovered over them while they satisfied their hunger, taking especial care to attend to Ascilius.

When they were done with their meal, Herma took them to a room with a fireplace already laid with a bright fire. Before the hearth were two comfortable wooden chairs and a small table laden with wine and cakes. Laid out to the right of the fireplace, carefully cleaned and polished, were their mail shirts and other gear. At either end of the room was a door leading into a bedroom. A single window located in the outside wall gave a view of the courtyard below. After setting aside their weapons, Ascilius and Elerian sat before the fire, soaking up the warmth of the flames.

“Did Herma and his Dwarves seem unusually nervous to you?” Ascilius asked Elerian in a puzzled voice after a moment. “I swear they turned pale each time I so much as glanced at them.”

“They were no doubt awed to be in such close proximity to royalty,” replied Elerian, barely containing his laughter.

“I suppose that might be true,” said Ascilius thoughtfully. “I never thought to sit before a comfortable fire again in a proper stonewalled room with no danger lurking outside,” he said after a moment. “It is a wonder, considering the dangers we have come through since we first met.”

“Indeed,” said Elerian, “there were many times I thought we had come to our last hour. Now, you have come to the end of your journey, but I must still continue mine.”

“Only because you have been smitten by love,” said Ascilius slyly. “Were you not so anxious to return to Anthea, you might spend many carefree days with me here in Iulius.” Seeing that the conversation was taking a turn that he did not care for, Elerian decided to take it in another direction.

 “Tell me about the kingdom,” he said, knowing that Ascilius would not be able to resist such a question.

“It is our oldest work and the greatest,” replied the Dwarf proudly, rising to the bait at once. “Iulius lies beneath a mountain at the head of the Caldaria which is covered with rich farms, meadows, and woodlots. Unlike Galenus and Ennodius, Iulius has many passageways that lead out beneath the valley where there are many homes and small villages. Here Dwarves live as they did in the old days, venturing freely above ground whenever they wish.”

While Elerian listened, Ascilius drank wine and continued to talk for some time about the wonders of his uncle’s kingdom. The fire slowly burned down to orange coals and the light outside the window began to fade, for it was growing dark.

“If we are to see your valley, we must go soon,” said Elerian to Ascilius, who was now discoursing on the wonder of Iulius’s mines.

Ascilius stopped in midsentence and looked out the window. “Why I have talked away most of the evening,” he said in surprise. “Mining is such a fascinating subject that it is easy to lose track of the time.”

“Fascinating for a Dwarf,” replied Elerian dryly. “Another hour and you would have put me fast asleep.”

“You are exaggerating as usual, of course,” said Ascilius cheerfully. “We both know that you almost never sleep like normal beings.”

“I would have made an exception this time,” thought Elerian to himself as he followed Ascilius through the doorway.

After winding his way through a series of labyrinthine passageways, Ascilius ascended a stairway until he reached a landing which led to a small, iron door. Opening the door with his left hand, Ascilius led Elerian out onto a thirty-foot wide walkway with a low, crenellated wall running down both sides of it. On his left, Elerian saw the courtyard, yellow mage light already spilling from many of the windows in the cliff face.

Ignoring the fortress, Ascilius led Elerian to the wall on the right, stopping before one of the spaces between the merlons. Standing on Ascilius’s right, Elerian found that he was tall enough to look over the wall. Stretched out before him was a wide valley which he estimated to be about eighty miles in length and fifty miles at its widest point. It was ringed on all sides by rugged, snowcapped mountains that seemed to reach up into the clouds. The western half of the valley was shrouded in purple shadow for the sun was already sinking below the peaks to the west in a blaze of orange light. Like a silver ribbon, the Catalus ran down the center of the valley, its waters tinged with copper where they reflected the sunset. A wide stone road followed the river north, running along its eastern bank.

“This is the Caldaria of Iulius,” said Ascilius proudly. “The mountains surrounding it are high and steep with no passes for an enemy to cross over. All around the valley, in the heights, are concealed great arbalests that are constantly manned. Their arrows of triple forged steel inlaid with argentum would threaten even Eboria if she was foolish enough to enter here. The Dwarves who dwell here cannot be starved out, and as long as there are enough warriors to man the defenses above the main gates, no enemy will ever be able to enter this valley by force.”

“But neither can any of the inhabitants leave,” said Elerian quietly.

“Even if that were true, it would hardly be an issue,” replied Ascilius dryly, “for most of the Dwarves who live in this valley could not be driven out of it at sword’s point.”

With a cheerful mien, Ascilius led the way back inside the fortress to the comfortable beds that awaited them in their room. He fell at once into a heavy, dreamless sleep but Elerian restlessly wandered the dream paths in his mind, reliving memories of Anthea that were indistinguishable from his waking moments. It was only toward dawn that he, too, slept for a brief time.

THE CALDARIA

The next morning, after a hearty breakfast, Elerian and Ascilius were met at the gateway to the Caldaria by Herma as they were about to begin began their journey to Iulius. The Dwarf commander stood by a pair of sleek gray ponies harnessed to a light, two wheeled, open carriage. Herma handed the reins to the ponies and a heavy leather wallet that jingled pleasantly when shaken to Ascilius.

“The carriage and coins have awaited you here at the fortress ever since your uncle learned that you were on your way to Iulius,” said Herma. “I hope that you will find them satisfactory.”

“They are more than sufficient,” said Ascilius happily as he weighed the bag in his hand and took in the padded black leather seats of the carriage. After he and Elerian stowed their weapons and other gear in the luggage boot, he climbed into the front seat, taking up the reins with his powerful hands.

“You will find that my uncle Dardanus is quite different from his brother,” said Ascilius cheerfully to Elerian when he sat himself down to the right of the Dwarf, resting comfortably on the thick, quilted cushion with which the seat was upholstered. As he guided the ponies pulling their carriage through the gate, Ascilius turned to wave to Herma who waved enthusiastically back.

“You would almost think that fellow was glad to be rid of us,” observed Ascilius to Elerian in a puzzled voice.

“I cannot imagine why,” replied Elerian,” looking off to his right to hide the laughter in his eyes.

Relaxing in unaccustomed comfort, the two companions rolled north in their carriage over a road that was paved with stone magically melded into a smooth, indestructible surface, a work of enormous labor considering the length of the highway. On either side of the thoroughfare were neatly mown, grass covered shoulders. Huge maple and ash trees grew at regular intervals on these grassy borders, providing welcome shade from the hot August sun, their size a testimony to the antiquity of the highway. In between the trees ornately carved stone posts topped with mage lights were set on both sides of the road so that it could be travelled with equal ease at all hours of the day and during all sorts of weather.

“Judging by the age of the trees, Dwarves have been in this place for a very long time,” thought Elerian to himself as the carriage rolled effortlessly down the highway past great fields of golden wheat and rye. Following the course of the Catalus, which flowed smoothly along its left side, the road occasionally wound between small hills, for the valley floor was not level throughout. Some of these hillocks were covered by meadows filled with small brown cattle while others were blanketed by ancient orchards. There were a few Dwarves about, performing various chores, but Elerian saw not a single structure of any kind. On closer inspection, however, he discovered that many of the hills and hillocks they passed had doorways and porches built of stone and roofed with brown tiles built into their bases.

“Where do those doorways lead?” he asked Ascilius curiously.

“Most of the farm houses and barns are below the ground,” replied Ascilius, “as is only proper. The larger hills have entire small towns built beneath them. This is how the Dwarves would live in all of their lands were it not for the danger presented by the Goblins. Outside the Caldaria, we huddle in our cities by necessity, not choice.”

Toward evening, their carriage approached a small, rounded, tree covered hill on their right that was rather closer to the road than the others they had passed. A wide, paved driveway bordered by low stone fences branched off from the highway, leading to the base of the hill. Great oaks grew on either side of it, spreading their limbs over it to form a thick green roof.

With a gentle pull on the reins, Ascilius guided his ponies into the driveway which ended at a great courtyard paved with flagstones. Scattered around the courtyard were enormous oak trees growing in plots of well-trimmed grass. Mage lights of many colors were hung in the branches of the trees, and the noise of merriment filled the air, issuing from a doorway in the side of the hill which was flanked by two great wooden doors that were open to the soft evening air. Yellow light spilled out between them onto the flagstones of the courtyard. When Ascilius reined in the ponies before the doors, a young Dwarf ran out and waited expectantly near Ascilius’s side of the wagon.

“Take care of our ponies and carriage my boy,” said Ascilius, tossing the youngster a silver penny which he deftly caught in his right hand. “We will be staying the night in the inn.” Lowering himself to the ground, Ascilius handed the reins to the stable boy while Elerian leaped lightly to ground and circled around the carriage to stand beside him.

“What about our weapons and gear?” Elerian asked as the young Dwarf climbed into the carriage and drove off.

“They will be safe enough inside the luggage compartment, for we are in civilized lands now with no need to worry about theft or other crimes,” replied Ascilius reassuringly as he ascended the three wide stone steps leading to the entryway of the inn.

At the top of the stairs, Elerian looked over Ascilius’s right shoulder and saw a large room beyond the doorway with a low ceiling covered by wooden planks and massive wooden rafters. Directly opposite the door, in the far wall, was an enormous stone fireplace with a cheerful fire of logs burning inside. To the left of the fireplace was a long stone counter. In back of the counter a set of double doors led to the kitchen. Along the right hand wall of the room was a row of wooden booths. The center of the room was taken up by tables and benches arranged in a random manner. The sound of laughter and good cheer filled the inn, issuing from a large, noisy company of Dwarves seated at the tables and booths. They were keeping the waiters and waitresses of the inn busy carrying trays of food and mugs of beer and ale from the kitchen to the tables.

Ascilius entered the room eagerly, attracting little attention, but many of the Dwarves paused in their merriment to stare at Elerian, for he stood head and shoulders above his companion. Those who had traveled out of Iulius took him at once for a rider from Tarsius and soon resumed their interrupted conversations, for the Tarsi had long been allies of the Dwarves although none had been seen in Iulius since the coming of the dragon to Ennodius.

Elerian and Ascilius were quickly seated at an empty wooden booth by a server. Beer, bread, and fresh cheese were set before them as well as a steaming plate of mushrooms and several sorts of meat pies covered by flaky golden crusts. Ascilius happily attacked the meal, free at last from the worry and constant anxiety that had been his constant companions since leaving Tarsius. Elerian, however, found that his own mood was not so good. He ate and drank with little interest, for now that he was in a peaceful setting free of danger and war, his need to be with Anthea had become paramount once more. Only his affection for Ascilius prevented him pressing the Dwarf to show him the way out of Iulius that very night.

As Elerian and Ascilius finished their meal, a bout of arm wrestling began at a nearby table. When the match was over, Ascilius leapt to his feet and promptly challenged the winner, a Dwarf with brown arms like knotted tree roots. The two of them strained over the sturdy oak planks of a table for almost half an hour before Ascilius loudly thumped his opponent’s hand solidly onto the tabletop. Then, flushed with victory, he bought drinks all around to the accompaniment of cheers from the Dwarves at the surrounding tables.

“One would never suspect that he was royalty,” thought Elerian to himself, sitting alone at his booth as he listened to Ascilius sing a drinking song with a group of Dwarves who had gathered around his table. “He presents himself as an ordinary fellow no better than anyone else, treating everyone around him in the same warm and generous manner. It is no wonder that he has won the admiration and affection of Dwarves like Falco.”

“We do not like foreigners here,” said a deep, harsh voice, abruptly interrupting Elerian’s musings about Ascilius. Turning away from his companion who was now calling loudly for another round to be served to all, Elerian saw that a dark haired, powerful Dwarf had approached his table, a mug of beer in his right hand and a belligerent look in his dark eyes. He seemed primed for a fight.

“If this fellow wants trouble then I should do my best to accommodate him,” thought Elerian to himself, for he had grown a bit bored and welcomed this opportunity for mischief. After considering various charms which he might use to good effect, he settled on an illusion spell but with a twist. Instead of casting one spell, he fashioned three, watching with his magical third eye as three diminutive balls of golden light leapt one after another from his right hand, remaining connected to it by the thinnest filament of golden light. As they settled on the tabletop in front of Elerian a horrified look appeared on the Dwarf’s face, and his mug of beer slipped from his hand, shattering loudly on the stone floor near his feet.

Closing his third eye so that he might also see the illusions that he had produced, Elerian now saw before him on the tabletop three of the largest, most evil looking rats that he had ever seen in his life. Shaggy, patchy gray fur covered their bony bodies, and long claws sprang from their gnarled, scaly fingers. Instead of chisel teeth, they had yellow fangs dripping threads of saliva, and their small red eyes glittered like tiny coals as they hissed at the Dwarf who stood rigid with terror, his staring eyes showing white around his dark pupils, for Elerian’s cunning instinct for mischief had settled upon the one animal that he detested and feared the most.

“Let the fun begin,” thought Elerian to himself with a gleam of anticipation in his gray eyes. Under his direction, the largest rat promptly leaped onto the Dwarf’s abundant beard, burrowing out of sight in an instant in its tangled depths. Displaying a fine control of his creations, Elerian directed the other two rats to leap onto the floor after which they whisked up the horror stuck Dwarf’s pant legs. As he felt what he imagined were the pricks of tiny claws on the flesh of his legs, the Dwarf suddenly gave a shout that shook the rafters. His paralysis broken, he seized his beard in both hands and began throttling and pummeling it, even as he leaped into the air, shaking and kicking his legs as if he had decided to perform a spirited and athletic dance.

“Help me get them out of my pants!” he roared as he leapt about, his lively performance now having attracted the attention of everyone in the tavern room. “

“Do you think Dirk is referring to his legs, Saenus?” Elerian heard a nearby Dwarf ask his companion in a puzzled voice.

“I think that he is having a fit brought on by the spirits that he has drunk,” replied Saenus disapprovingly. “A good shaking will bring him out of it.”

Setting down his own mug, he rose to his feet and attempted to lay his right hand on the frantic Dirk’s shoulder. Thinking he was being assaulted from another quarter, Dirk promptly flattened Saenus’s large nose with his right fist.

“Ow,” roared Saenus in an outraged voice as he continued to grapple with Dirk. “I am trying to help you, you fool.” Other Dwarves now came to his aid, and before long, a seething, shouting mass of Dwarves was thrashing around on the floor with the frenzied Dirk hidden beneath them.

“Hold him,” roared one. “Yow!” shrieked another. “He bit my nose!” Laughing so hard that tears were starting from his eyes, Elerian quietly ended his illusions.

“I must remember that Dwarves bite,” he thought to himself as he watched the Dwarves finally rise to their feet. Carrying Dirk, who was still struggling frenziedly, they marched out through the door of the inn.

“Throw him in the horse trough,” shouted one. “That will sober him up.” Elerian started in his chair as a bleary voice suddenly spoke in his left ear.

“What have you done now,” asked Ascilius disapprovingly.

“Why do you always suspect me of causing trouble,” replied Elerian in a hurt voice as he unobtrusively wiped the last tear from his eyes with his right hand.

“Past experience,” said Ascilius dryly. The sound of shouting outside the door suddenly began to grow louder as the Dwarves returned to the common room.

“Perhaps we should seek our beds,” suggested Elerian. If Dirk mentioned rats to anyone, it was likely to be put down to drunken imaginings, but Elerian saw no sense in taking chances.

“Good idea,” replied Ascilius who then promptly passed out on the floor.

“Not a bad first night,” thought Elerian to himself a few moments later as he carried Ascilius up to their rooms on the second floor.

The next morning, after a fine breakfast, Elerian and Ascilius resumed their leisurely journey north, stopping for lunch and refreshments at another comfortable inn. At any other time, Elerian would have enjoyed the ride through the beautiful countryside, but he found himself becoming increasingly restless, consumed by worry that Anthea might already have set out from Niveaus.

That night, after a large dinner and plentiful spirits at still another inn, Ascilius became embroiled in another arm wrestling contest, leaving Elerian to his own devices. As he sat restlessly in an out of the way booth, Elerian’s roving eye lit upon a serving maid who seemed to be paying an unusual amount of attention to the competition in which Ascilius was involved. Elerian guessed her to be around the same age as his companion. Like most of the Dwarf females that he had observed, she had strong features, slightly exaggerated when considered individually, but taken together they complemented each other, endowing their owner with a rough beauty. It was a face which would age well as time softened and blurred its rough edges.