The Hidden Realm: Book 04 - Ennodius (17 page)

After they cleaned up the kitchen, Ascilius led the way up a wide stone stairway to the next level. Here, above the tavern room, they found pleasant if dusty bedrooms. They lay down to sleep that night in real beds with clean sheets and soft pillows, but despite the comfortable sleeping arrangements, Elerian remained awake in the small bedroom that he had selected for himself, thinking about Ascilius.

“What a crafty fellow he is,” thought Elerian to himself. “He has had a secret plan to rescue his people all along. I wonder at his motives, though. There is no doubt in my mind that he cares deeply about his people, but he seems almost to relish the prospect of leading the populace of Ennodius to safety. He has not said much about it, but he seems to have come in for more than his share of disapproval from his father and certain of his people. Perhaps this rescue is his way of finally silencing those who criticized him in the past. I wish him luck if that is the case. He is a worthy fellow, although I would never admit it to his face, and deserving of everyone’s respect. I will certainly help him in any way I can.”

Elerian’s thoughts next turned to Anthea. “Why has she never come back?” he wondered to himself. “If she has mastered some new form of magic, she should have wasted no time in tantalizing me with it. Rather than strip away the illusion spell masking the ruby ring on his left hand, Elerian merely opened his third eye, observing the crimson pulse of the ruby behind the golden glow of the illusion spell that covered it. A slender thread of gold led away from the ring, disappearing after only a few feet. The thread passed through a tiny portal to communicate with Anthea’s ring. Elerian knew about the link between the rings, for he had crafted them with his own hands, but he had not thought of the connection between them before.

“That is how she did it,” he thought to himself excitedly. “Somehow, she found a way for her shade to follow the thread through the portal.”

Elerian was now both intrigued and alarmed. It was a clever use of unknown magic, but he felt no desire to emulate it. During his fight with Drusus, the changeling had almost stolen Elerian’s body by casting out his shade, leaving Elerian with a horror of being separated from his physical body.

“I will have to warn Anthea about the dangers of leaving her living body behind if she appears again.” he thought to himself worriedly.

Eventually, he ceased to think, slipping instead into the world of his memories. The elemental spell that he had used to drive off Eboria brought thoughts of Tullius to his mind, and he walked and talked with his old mentor once more before finally falling into a true sleep near dawn.

RAIN AND WAITING

Elerian slept only a little before rising to check on Enias. He found the stallion resting comfortably in his stall. With a currycomb that he found in a nearby tack room, Elerian brushed out his coat until it gleamed like newly polished silver. He then carefully examined all four of Enias's small, trim hooves for stones or bruises. Finding everything in order, he put out more grain for the stallion and then went exploring. Walking southwest, toward the cliff face, he found that the stalls ended and a large open space began.

“This is probably where the wagons were stored,” thought Elerian to himself as he walked through the chamber. It proved to be empty, filled only with a weighty silence that made him uneasy.

“Nothing to worry about,” he reassured himself, persevering in his explorations until he came to a passageway that led away from the empty cavern. Lighting a small mage light which then hovered above his head, Elerian entered the tunnel which was wide enough for two wagons to pass abreast. His tiny mage light provided more than enough light for his eyes to pierce the darkness around him.

At the end of the passageway, which inclined steadily upward, Elerian found a set of double doors made of thick oak that were locked fast. He was sure that these were the same doors that he had seen in the cliff wall that formed the front of the inn.

Retracing his steps, Elerian returned to the kitchen where he found Ascilius already making their breakfast. The Dwarf was frying bread and bacon in the same pan. He was also cooking porridge and honey in a large pot. Elerian set the table in the kitchen, and when all was in readiness, they sat down to eat. Elerian would have lingered over the hot meal in the warm, pleasant kitchen, but Ascilius was in a hurry this morning. He ate quickly and then began to gather provisions to take with them.

While Elerian tidied the kitchen after their meal, washing the dishes and their cutlery, Ascilius filled two old, tattered packs that he had found hanging on a hook in his bedroom with bread he had baked that morning as well as cheese, smoked meat, chestnuts, and dried fruit that he took from the inn’s storerooms. From the small cask of beer that they had tapped the night before, he also filled a pair of water bottles that he had discovered in the kitchen.

Elerian was reluctant to leave the comfortable inn after just one night, for the last few days had taxed his strength more than he was willing to admit. A few days of rest would have served him well, but he made no complaint about their hasty departure, for he understood and sympathized with Ascilius's impatience to reach Ennodius. When they were ready to leave, he fetched Enias from the stable before following Ascilius to the front door of the tavern.

When Ascilius cautiously opened the door, they were met with an unexpected downpour. A storm had blown in during the early morning hours, but the thick stone walls of the inn had muffled the sounds of rain and wind. Rivulets of water were already coursing down the sides of the cliff and dripping off the leaves of the trees in steady streams. A stiff wind whipped the branches overhead back and forth, sending sprays of cold, heavy raindrops into the doorway.

Elerian would gladly have turned around to wait out the storm in the inn, but Ascilius seemed determined to ignore the foul weather.

“We will not have to worry about the dragon today,” he said cheerfully. “She will not venture out in this wet weather.”

“I do not blame her a bit,” said Elerian glumly as he stared out into the pouring rain.

Ascilius had discovered two old, wool cloaks along with the packs. Elerian slipped one over his head and shoulders, thinking with regret of the fine wool cloak the dragon had destroyed. The cloak he wore now was wide enough, but short. Fashioned for a Dwarf, it left the backs of his legs exposed to the rain from the knees down. Ascilius flung his own cloak over his shoulders before stepping impatiently out into the rainstorm.

As he followed Ascilius through the doorway into the downpour, Elerian thought regretfully of the warm, dry beds and the good food they were leaving behind in the inn. Enias snorted as the cold rain struck his sleek hide, seeming to have the same regrets as Elerian at leaving his dry stall.

“Still,” thought Elerian to himself, “I must agree with Ascilius. The rain will keep Eboria from venturing out of her lair. Before the storm blows over, we may be able to approach and enter the city unseen. The sooner Ascilius accomplishes his mission, the sooner I can return to Anthea,” he reminded himself.

After Ascilius locked the door to the inn, they walked down to the main road. Ascilius stopped when he reached the pillars that marked the entrance to the inn road.

“Elerian,” he said hesitantly, “I do not think we should take Enias beyond this point. If we find our way into the city,” said the Dwarf regretfully, “we will be below ground and that is no proper place for a horse.”

“I can change his form to something smaller,” said Elerian quickly, for he was reluctant to be parted from the stallion who had become his fast friend.

“If something happens to you what will be his fate then?” asked the Dwarf sternly. “I have no power to change shapes as you do. He will be trapped in whatever form you give him.”

“First Balbus and Tullius, then Anthea, and now Enias,” thought Elerian angrily to himself. “It seems my fate to be parted from all that I hold dear.”

He shivered suddenly as he recalled the curse that Drusus had laid on him many years ago. The changeling had told him that he would lose everything that he valued. Elerian had always felt uneasy about the curse, but he had never put much stock in it until now.

“Curse or no curse, Ascilius is right,” Elerian thought to himself. “Ennodius is no place for a horse. Remember the dark ways beneath the Dwarf city of Calenus,” he reminded himself. “If he travels south under cover of the rain, Enias will be far out of Eboria’s reach before the sun shines again.”

“Return to your brethren on the plains, my friend,” he said softly as he fondly stroked the stallion’s sleek neck. “I hope we will meet again someday in happier times.”

Enias briefly nuzzled Elerian's face, as if he understood. Then, like a pale ghost, he slipped into falling rain, heading southeast toward the plains. Elerian watched him go with a heavy heart. When Enias finally vanished, hidden behind a gray curtain of rain, he turned and followed Ascilius, who was already walking northwest toward Ennodius.

As Ascilius and Elerian trudged along in single file, the rain continued to fall in steady gray sheets, dripping off the branches and leaves overhead in steady, clear streams that quickly soaked through the two companions’ cloaks. Their clothes were soon wet through as well, clinging clammily to their skin. Their wool cloaks still held in some of the warmth of their bodies even when they were wet, but it was a most uncomfortable day to be out and abroad.

In the early afternoon, they came to a point where the road forked. The main highway continued west. A smaller road, barely wide enough for two wagons to pass abreast, turned north into the foothills. Without hesitating, Ascilius took the right hand fork. Barely a quarter mile down the road, as they followed it across the side of a steep, thickly wooded hill, the hillside on their left suddenly fell away, forming a sharp cliff. Nothing grew along the stony margin of the cliff, leaving a gap in the trees that screened the road from view. As Ascilius and Elerian crossed this gap, the rain slackened momentarily. Glancing to his left, Elerian stopped when he unexpectedly found himself looking out over a wide valley.

At one time, it must have been full of rich farms that fed the Dwarf city to the north, but now, only a burnt and scorched landscape met Elerian’s eyes. Blackened crops covered the ground, and dead trees lifted skeleton arms up to the gray sky. Even the forests on the lower slopes of the mountains ringing the valley were burned and blackened. Running north to south through the middle of the devastation was the Catalus, which first emerged from a gap in the mountains about ten miles to the North. A stone paved road ran along the west bank of the river to the head of the valley, ending at the foot of a mountain with a double peak.

Elerian glanced at Ascilius, who had stopped beside him on his right, a stunned look on his face. Clearly, the extent of the devastation was far worse than what he had expected. The rain picked up suddenly, obscuring their view again.

“We must continue on,” said Ascilius, shaking off his dismay at the sight of the desolate waste that was once his home. “The road we are on will take us to a bridge over the Catalus at the north end of the valley. Once we cross the bridge, the highway will take us up onto Geminus, the mountain with the double peak. There are several secret entrances on the upper slopes of the mountain which lead down to Ennodius, which lies at the roots of Geminus. Once inside the city, we can begin our search for survivors.”

“If there are any survivors,” thought Elerian as he followed Ascilius back into the thick green forests that still covered the upper slopes on the eastern side of the valley, shielding the road from unfriendly eyes.

It was late evening when Ascilius and Elerian drew close to Geminus. The rain was still falling, and the weather had turned unseasonably cool besides. Under their clothes, small rivulets of cold water coursed over their skin before dripping to the ground. Even though the surface of the road was cleverly pitched to drain off the rain, their boots were soaked and full of water.

“We are close to the end of the road,” said Ascilius to Elerian, who was walking by his side on his left. “Hopefully, if the rain continues, we will enter the city without Eboria ever becoming aware of us.”

The road swung around to the west, and before long, they reached the edge of the deep gorge through which the Catalus flowed south. The light was failing, but they had a clear view of the landscape before them, for the rain had slowed again. Beyond the edge of the sharp cliff before them was only empty air. The bridge on which Ascilius had planned to cross the Catalus was gone. Down in the gorge in front of them, only the blackened remnants of the stone piers which had supported it remained. The burnt and shattered remains of the roadbed lay at the bottom of the gorge where the green waters of the Catalus foamed white where they flowed over and around them. On the far side of the gorge, scorched paving stones ran up the side of the mountain between the charred remnants of what had once been a mighty forest, burned away by the dragon’s fire, which had left behind only blackened stumps and fallen trunks. High up on the mountain, where the road ended, were the remains of towers, walls, and terraces, all of them thrown down and blackened by fire.

Ascilius's face sagged as he looked at the destruction. “Centuries of work all gone,” he said softly, as if speaking to himself. “Many a fair garden grew on those terraces, and there were tall towers that reached to the sky. When one tired of the stonework of the city beneath the mountain, it was possible to walk out here under the blue sky amidst flowers and ancient trees and clear streams. It would have been better to have died in the mines than to witness the destruction before me.” The Dwarf bowed his head as if a great weight sat upon his shoulders.

“All my plans have fallen into ruin,” he said dispiritedly to Elerian without lifting his head. “Even if we found a way across the river, the secret entrances I hoped to use are buried beneath tons of rubble. The only way left into the city on this side of the mountain is through the main gate, which will lead us right into the dragon's jaws.”

Elerian looked out over the gorge. Even if they could somehow cross the Catalus, there was still almost a mile of open ground between the river and the south face of Geminus where the gates to the city must lie.

“What about the back gate?” asked Elerian, refusing to become discouraged until they had explored every other possibility of entering the city.

“We would have to travel for miles in the open to reach it,” said Ascilius despondently. “Even if we arrived there alive, it is certain to be blocked, for Eboria has likely sealed every entrance into the city except the main gate. There was a secret entrance into the castella which guards the back gate into the city, but who knows if it is still open.”

“Where are the main gates?” asked Elerian, still determined to find a way into the city.

“Almost a mile away, around the flanks of the mountain,” said Ascilius, pointing off to the left with his right hand. You cannot see them from here.”

“In that case, let us travel south along the lip of the gorge until we can see them,” suggested Elerian. “Eboria will have to hunt some time or other. When she leaves, we may be able to cross the river and reach the gates before she returns.”

“A risky plan,” said Ascilius pessimistically, “but I cannot think of a better one. You should leave Elerian,” he said suddenly. “The situation here has become hopeless. I must try and enter the city even if I die in the attempt, but there is no need for you to die with me.”

“Let us see what transpires,” said Elerian lightly. “Things may not be as bad as you think.”

Taking the lead for the first time, Elerian set off in a southerly direction, staying close to the lip of the gorge, Ascilius following dispiritedly behind him. As if to add to their discomfort, the rain began to fall more heavily again.

When the southern face of Geminus came into view through the gray curtain on their right, Ascilius stopped suddenly. “Hold up, Elerian,” he said, pointing with his right hand at Geminus when Elerian turned to face him. “The gates are at the base of that cliff where the valley road ends. You cannot see them from here, but if she were to fly out, Eboria would be clearly visible.”