CHAPTER 6: INTO THE EAST
“What do we do?” Shayla hissed through her teeth, slowly clenching her hands into fists. Khalid didn't even have to guess at what she had in mind.
“I know yer up there,” the speaker called out again. “I jes wanna talk. I don't mean you no harm.”
“Ah, that'd be a first,” Khalid muttered.
Gorak grunted, and stood up from his half crouch. “Let's go.”
“What?” Shayla whispered incredulously. “Just walk down there?”
“Look around,” Gorak growled. “You think whoever that is was just hanging around these barren foothills, a hundred miles from anywhere, on the odd chance that Khalid might drop by? He knew we was coming and if he wanted to pick a fight I don't think he woulda introduced himself first.”
Khalid couldn't really argue with Gorak's logic, but it didn't do much to make him feel any better. He was fairly certain that the strange inflections in the speaker's voice belied an otherworldly heritage, which served to lead him down a fairly concerning line of thought. The time they spent in the mountains had done little to throw off their many pursuers apparently and if they couldn't hide deep within the mountains of the north, where could they? Khalid, resigned, stood up and followed Gorak with a heavy sigh. Shayla, looking dubious, trailed them down the path.
In the failing light, it took them several minutes to locate the stranger. Scrambling up a steep incline, Khalid peered over and saw a figure sitting astride a chestnut coloured warhorse. He looked human but as he was encased entirely in an imposing suit of matte black plate, it was difficult to be sure. Thick rams horns curled out from the sides of the closed faced helm that sat atop his head and a dark black beard spilled out from underneath. His armor had the look of expert craftsmanship, although Khalid could see where the scars of battle had been patched and repaired. The shield that hung off his saddlehorn bore no crest and, like the armor, had apparently served its owner well. He was heavily armed, not surprisingly, with an unadorned hand and a half sword hanging from his waist and a longbow slung across his back. As he watched them approach, he turned his palms up, empty handed, in a universal gesture of peace.
“Alright,” Gorak grunted. “You found us. Now start talking.”
“My words are for Khalid alone,” he rasped. He turned slightly to address Khalid. “I don't have no quarrel with you or yours. Let me speak my piece and then judge my intentions.”
Fighting down his unease, Khalid couldn't help but admit to his curiosity. Before Gorak could reply, he spoke up, “Ah, yes, very well then, I will hear you out. Let us move away a little, out of earshot but within sight of my friends, and I will listen, yes, listen to what you have to say.” Trying to summon up some no existent bravado, he continued, “But I warn you, if you are playing false with us we will not hesitate to destroy you. Yes, quite.” The stranger nodded, and turned his horse back down the path. Khalid moved to follow, when Gorak caught him by the arm.
“I hope you know what you're doing,” he growled.
Khalid shrugged, seeing the concern in their eyes. “Ah, no, not really,” he admitted. “But I sense no falsehood in his voice or manner, and I cannot, yes, cannot help but be intrigued.”
“Alright. Go if you must.” Shayla said. “We'll stay right here, ready if you need us.”
“Ah yes, quite.” Khalid replied, “Let's hope it does not come to that.”
Khalid moved away, joining the strange warrior down the path. For several hours they talked as dusk deepened into night, until finally he rejoined Gorak and Shayla, a thoughtful expression on his face. Shayla stood from where she had been teasing Emma with a bit of string, and Gorak glanced up from cleaning his armor.
“So?” Shayla asked. “What's that guy all about?”
“Ah, yes,” Khalid replied, “he is most, yes, most unusual.”
“Who is he?” Gorak grunted.
“His name is Azarek. He has been searching for me for quite some time.”
“What does he want?” Shayla repeated.
“Ah, yes, well we have not concluded our discussions yet,” Khalid replied. “I returned only to prepare your shelter for the evening.” He paused to open up the pocket dimension. “I do not believe he poses any danger to us. Yes, quite.”
“You got awful trusting all of a sudden,” Gorak growled, eying him suspiciously.
Khalid held up his hand, stopping Gorak from continuing. “I assure you, he cast no spells upon me. There are other factors, yes, factors at play here.”
“This ain't no time to be cryptic Khalid,” Gorak growled, clearly irritated.
“I will explain everything, yes, everything tomorrow. Please, trust me for the moment.”
Gorak muttered something under his breath and turned around, obviously unconvinced. Shayla shrugged and decided to take Khalid at his word, retreating into the magical shelter. Khalid returned to his conversation with Azarek, speaking with him long into the night. He returned to their camp in the morning to find Gorak sitting stoically beside the open portal, still keeping watch. As he approached, Gorak growled, “Khalid's back. We're coming up, Shayla.”
“Just a minute!” she called out sleepily. Gorak gave her barely that before climbing through the gate. Khalid followed him and promptly wilted under Shayla's scathing glare as she pulled her bedroll up around her shoulders.
“Alright,” Gorak grunted. “Start talking. What's the deal with that walking tin can down there?”
“Ah, it's complicated,” Khalid began slowly. Sensing Gorak's mood, he continued on quickly. “There are parts of his past of which he has forbidden, yes, forbidden me to speak, and I will respect that.”
“So what can you tell us?” Shayla asked.
“As you may have noticed from his speech, Azarek is not a native of this place. However, my discussions with him have confirmed, yes, confirmed what I suspected. Not only is he not from the East, he is not even from this plane of existence.” He paused somewhat melodramatically to allow that to sink in. Somewhat disappointed by the lack of response, he continued on, “Ah, well, not entirely anyhow. Azarek is the bastard issue of an unholy union.”
“Just how unholy are we talking about here Khalid?” Gorak growled. “Like Vestalt kind of unholy?”
“Ah, yes, something like that,” Khalid replied. “It is not as uncommon as you would perhaps imagine.” Noticing Shayla's raised eyebrow, he added, “Well, not uncommon if you've been exposed to the type of education I have. Yes, quite. They are known as Tiefling, but I would not call him such,” Khalid cautioned hastily. “It is a term likely to cause offense. These unfortunate creatures are not truly at home here or among the infernal realms and are often outcast among both.”
“So far, ain't nothing you said gives me a warm fuzzy feeling about this Azarek.” Gorak grunted. “What's he want?”
“Ah, yes, well, he wants to join us.” Khalid replied. “Ah, me in particular it would seem.”
“I hope you told him where to stick that bright idea,” Shayla muttered.
“Ah, no, on the contrary,” Khalid said. “I agreed.”
“You did what?” Gorak grumbled, in that dangerously flat tone he used when he was trying to control his emotions.
“Azarek sees me as an instrument to exact revenge for past wrongs. He has been counselled, yes, counselled that my survival will grant him the opportunity that he seeks. Yes, quite.”
“Oh yeah? And what do you think of that?” Shayla asked.
“Ah, yes, well it doesn't exactly fill me with joy,” Khalid admitted. “I have not promised to aid him in his task, but the fact, yes, the fact that he found me when so many others have failed demonstrates the depths of his conviction. Yes, quite.”
“How do you know he ain't just feeding you a line, waiting for an opportunity to hand you over to one of those 'others' that are out there hunting for your hide?” Gorak growled, still clearly annoyed.
“Ah, yes, I believe he was honest with me,” Khalid replied. “But there is more, yes, more to it then that. To an extent, you will have to trust me, when I say that I trust him completely.”
“I dunno Khalid,” Shayla said. “We three have come a long way together but having this...whatever he is, hanging around, that's a lot to ask.”
“Ah, yes, of course I understand. I will endeavor, yes, endeavor to explain.” Khalid paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. “The tainted blood that flows through his veins gives Azarek abilities beyond that of a normal mortal. It also, however, carries with it some unique disadvantages as well. Those beings we call devils or demons have a presence, a force, yes, force of will that far exceeds our own. Their consciousness can often survive obliteration of their physical form in a way wholly different from our own, so strong is their mental fortitude. Their...” he hesitated, trying to find the words to describe the alien concept, “identity for lack of a better word, is far stronger than their incredible physical power. At the root of this awareness, this sense of self, is a name that binds them together. A name that provides an anchor for all that the creature is. A true name, if you will, that contains its intelligence and demeanor in its entirety.”
“Obviously,” Khalid continued, “these beings guard this name, this key, yes, key to their identity with all means at their disposal. For in the hands of somebody that recognizes it for what it is, it grants an enormous measure of control. It can be used as a weapon, to warp the very fabric of what makes the creature what it is. In the hands of a skilled magi, it can be used to compel the creature against its will or even tear apart its very essence.” Khalid looked first to Gorak and then Shayla, as the realization dawned on them.”
“And he...” Shayla began, with some surprise.
“Yes,” Khalid confirmed. “Azarek's mortal blood ensures that should you destroy his body, he will cease to be but still he carries this burden upon him. And so committed to his goals is he, so consumed by what he seeks, he has shared this name with me, knowing, yes, knowing that it would be the one thing that would allow me to trust him explicitly.”
The gravity of Khalid's words reached through even Gorak's foul demeanor. He whistled softly, and when he spoke again, at least some of the irritation had left him. “You're sure about this?” he growled. When Khalid nodded, he continued, “Alright then, maybe we can try this out. But at the first sign of anything funny.” He made a jerking motion across his neck with his hand. “It's a quick cut and a shallow hole for your new friend.”
“Ah, yes, quite.” Khalid muttered.
They dropped out of the magical shelter and moved down the hillside to join Azarek, who was waiting patiently beside his mount. Khalid made the introductions, taking no small amount of glee in Shayla's response as Azarek removed his helm. He'd purposefully neglected to mention some of Azarek's more obvious manifestations of his heritage, just to see how she would react. Encased in armor, there was little to suggest that he was anything other than human but as he removed his helm, any doubt as to his nature vanished. The curling horns that swept down around the front of his helm were not a mere decoration of his armor. Rather, the armor had been cunningly designed to conceal the fact that the horns grew out from just above his temples. Once you got past the horns however, he looked more or less like an Easterner. He was a shade paler than most, but you didn't really notice it unless you were right beside him. His eyes were a little off putting too; more pupil then iris, which made it hard to tell exactly who he was staring so intently at but besides those minor differences, his face was regular, even handsome. That night as he removed his armor, Khalid was half expecting to see a tail, or cloven hooves, but Azarek seemed to bear no other traces of his infernal ancestry.
Shayla, obviously intrigued, made an attempt to draw out Azarek as they prepared their evening meal, but even with all her considerable charm, she failed to illicit much more than a one word response from him. Frustrated and annoyed, she eventually gave up and decided to ignore him completely, which seemed to suit Azarek just fine. As they road out down into the vast Eastern tundra in the morning, the awkwardness remained, and for the most part, they travelled in silence. There was no need to discuss their destination; a solitary peak rose out of the empty plain, dominating the skyline to the northeast.
Finally, Khalid broke the silence, “Ah, so how far do you think are from the mountain?”
“Hard ta say,” Gorak rumbled shielding his eyes from the dazzling sunlight with his hand. “The map that Arbaq gave us ain't too accurate, and there ain't no way to tell how big that thing is. A few days maybe, no more than a week at most I wager.” Since, the barren landscape gave little of interest to discuss, Khalid turned to Azarek, bored enough to risk being rebuffed yet again, “Ah, yes, so something has been bothering me. How exactly did you find me.”
“Weren't easy,” he replied and then, surprisingly continued in his heavy, rasping voice. “I musta crossed this kingdom a half dozen times, seeking out every two bit charlatan and drugged out seer from here to the Great Ocean. Prophesies and ranting, gibberish and graft is mostly all I got to show fer it. But finally I got me an audience with this
magician,” he put a particularly unpleasant inflection on the word, “in Caer Morag.”
“Ah, magician?” Khalid interrupted. “How long ago? Did he have access to his magic.”
“Maybe a year ago, maybe bit less. Ain't always easy keeping track of stuff like that out 'ere. I didn't see him do nothing and he spent all of about two licks of a dogs arse doing it. He took one look at me, and sent me off. Summoned me back tha next morning and gave me a map and a name.”
“Ah,” was all Khalid replied, somewhat disappointed.
“Khalid's name?” Gorak grunted.
“Nah, I already knew who I wuz looking fer by then, I just din't no where ta find 'im. The name he gave me was fer some old crone and I could tell right away that she weren't no crock, let me tell ya.”
“Oh?” Shayla perked up. “Does that come from your...” she made a little curl in the air with the tip of her finger, mimicking the sweep of his horns.
“Nope.” His armor creaked a bit as he turned to look at her. “I could tell jes by looking to the folk around 'er. You don't look at nobody like that unless you
believe. She toll me where to find you. Course,” he muttered, his harsh voice turning even more sinister. “She din't tell me when. Bin sitting up there bout three damn months I figure.”
Khalid leaned back in his saddle, considering Azarek's words. What bribes and payments he must have made, to come so far and what tolls must have been extracted from him. Of course, he'd saved his best bargaining chip for Khalid. The one thing that he knew Khalid wouldn't be able to refuse. Khalid wasn't exactly sure how he felt about that. The rest of the day's ride passed slowly as Azarek's laconic tendencies returned. Khalid half dozed at the reins, directing his conjured mount to follow the others. Wearied by the previous nights conversation, he was startled when Gorak spoke again.”
“We got some of Ruwayd's friends following us,” Gorak growled.
Khalid turned in his saddle, scanning the skies for Janni when he realized what Gorak meant. On the horizon behind them, six specs were growing quickly. “Griffons,” Khalid muttered despondently.
“Yup,” Gorak grunted. “This should be fun. There's not much cover around here. Let's make for those trees.” He pointed at a stand of a dozen shrivelled looking pine trees ahead. They rode hard, whipping their mounts into a frenzy as they raced across the frozen ground.
Over the pounding hooves, Shayla called out, “We're not going to make it!”
Thinking quickly, Khalid reined in. “Ah, get off your horses! Quickly! We'll abandon, yes, abandon them to the griffons and make our way to the trees on foot, while they're distracted.”
“Speak for yourself wizard. Ain't nobody gonna eat this horse but me,” Azarek rasped.
“Yes, yes,” Khalid snapped, “fine. Not yours, but the conjured ones!”
As Shayla and Gorak jumped off, Khalid sent the horses fleeing away from them, on tangents away from the woods. Screeching as they dove in for the kill, the griffons wheeled in the air and followed.
Amid the shrieks of the dying horses, the four ran towards the sparse protection of the trees. Panting and gasping, Shayla and Khalid collapsed on the ground, as Gorak skidded to a stop behind them. Azarek dismounted and strapped on his heavy shield.
“Here they come!” Gorak growled. “And they don't look very happy that their lunch just turned into purple smoke.”
“Yeah, well if those stupid buzzards are annoyed at that,” Shayla wheezed as she staggered to their feet. “They're really gonna hate this.” She gestured up in the air, and the three lead griffons were engulfed in ball of flame. Charred and smoking, they banked hard in the air, crying out in pain as they fled back towards the mountains. The remaining three circled warily, until Shayla sent up another burst of flame, exploding it high in the air. Filling the air with frustrated screeches, they turned and followed their wounded companions.
“Well, that worked out okay,” Gorak grunted casually.
“Ah, yes, except that I can not arrange for transportation until tomorrow. Yes, quite.” Khalid pointed out. “So I believe we're camping here tonight.”
On the second day, they picked up a river that ran down out of the foothills and, according to their map, flowed all the way to the mountain. Its banks cut a relatively straight path through the snow and ice, and they followed it for several more days as the solitary peak continued to grow on the horizon. By the middle of the fifth day, Khalid was starting to think it might be some sort of weird arctic mirage until he began to make out features around its base. Frowning slightly as he tried to work out what he was seeing, he took his hat off and mopped his sweating face. Seeing Shayla fanning herself, he asked, “Ah, is it just me, or is it getting warmer?”
“It ain't just you. That's grass down there, near the mountain. Looks like a lake too. That cloud around the base is steam coming up offa the water.” Gorak rumbled. “Probably underground springs running all through this area, heating up the air. I'm gonna go take a look around.” He tossed the reins of his horse to Shayla and dropped out of the saddle, shimmering into the form of a hawk before he hit the ground. Azarek rode up from the rear of the party, to take the lead. Within minutes, Khalid and Shayla had to strip down to attire that would have been suitable for Gem-Sharad. Azarek seemed content to suffer within his steel armor. As they rode on, the ground beneath their horses hooves turned from frozen earth and snow to lush green grass. Khalid judged them to still be several hours away when Gorak returned, circling high overhead. He swooped down and reverted into his natural form in front of them.
“We've got a problem,” he growled.
“What else is new,” Shayla sighed.
“There's a village up there,” Gorak continued, “on the lake. I flew through it to check it out, and I think I might have spooked 'em.”
“How so?”
“Well it looks like nothing but a bunch of crude yurts and long-houses, but I think I caught at least two of 'em doing some sort of ritual. And more than one of 'em stopped to take a good long look at me.”
“Ah, yes,” Khalid replied, mulling over the situation. “Then we must decide if we should present ourselves to them, or try to avoid the village and head directly to the mountain.”
“They might not be hostile,” Shayla pointed out. “And if they live right under the thing, they might know what's inside, or at least have stories or legends about it.”
“They're gonna outnumber us pretty badly,” Gorak grumbled as he climbed on his mount, “if they don't take a shine to yer pretty little smile.” He nudged his mount into a trot, angling it slightly away from the direction of the village. “Normally I wouldn't worry too much about a bunch tribesmen in a village out in the middle of nowhere, but there's something strange going on there.”
“Yes, quite.” Khalid said. “Still, I hate to pass up the opportunity to learn, yes, learn what it is we might face.”
As they debated, they turned further away from the village to buy more time before making a decision. The sun was setting behind them when Gorak cursed and called Azarek up from the rear of the group. “Looks like we don't get a choice no more,” he growled. “I count at least a dozen men, running hard this way.”
The minutes felt like hours as they waited for the tribesmen to reach them. Azarek strapped on his shield and drew out his sword, resting it across his saddle. Khalid fiddled nervously with his spell components, feeling dreadfully exposed, sitting on top of his horse in the wide open terrain. He was certain that they could at least outrun any difficulty in the short term, but didn't relish the thought of being harried by the locals across the tundra.
“You'd better put yer hat on,” Gorak growled to Azarek, “things are gonna get started real soon, and either way, yer gonna need it.” Azarek nodded and donned his heavy metal helm, concealing his origins.
They tribesmen weren't precisely running when they spotted the party, but rather they moved in a rolling jog that quickly ate up the distance. As they approached, they began to fan out. Each one had a longbow drawn with arrow nocked, as they formed a semi-circle around the horses, keeping well back. Khalid cursed under his breath as he watched how carefully they warriors spaced themselves out, severely limiting his options. He was forced to agree with Gorak's assessment that these were more than mere plains folk.
The two groups eyed each other cautiously for a few seconds before the man Khalid took for a leader spoke up. Unfortunately, whatever he was saying was incomprehensible gibberish to Khalid. He looked over his shoulder at Gorak and Shayla, but saw only his own incomprehension mirrored in their faces. With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Khalid rattled off greetings in all of the languages he knew. Since these consisted mainly of the various dialects of the other realms of existence, he wasn't surprised with the lack of response. He paused for a moment before trying the foul speech of the devils. He wasn't really prepared to consider what a response from them in that tongue would imply, but he decided it was worth the risk. Dredging up vague memories from his schooling, he tried what he thought was a reasonable greeting in the cursed tongue.
Azarek chortled behind his helm as the tribesmen glowered back in silence. “'S'a damn good thing they din't unnerstand what you jes toll 'em we was gonna do to 'em. ”
“Ah, yes, quite,” Khalid muttered. “That's the problem with the infernal language. Everything is expressed in degrees of torture.” He spoke up again, “This is going to be a problem, yes, quite. They don't speak any language that I'm familiar with.”
Gorak tried a few words of goblin but was met with the same stony silence. Frustrated, the man turned and spoke to a smaller, cloaked figure standing behind him. To Khalid's surprise, a female voice gave him a sharp rebuke. The cowled figure turned back her hood, and Khalid's amazement turned to shock.
She was dressed in a similar fashion, clad in well worn leathers embroidered with patterns of beads, but seemed ancient compared to the men around here. Deep lines and wrinkles covered the old woman's bronzed, weathered face. Despite her advanced age, she seemingly had little difficulty keeping pace with the young warriors, the oldest of which Khalid estimated at a third her age. There was no trace of fatigue in her voice. As she walked past the taller man, his tone went from harsh to imploring, but she brushed aside whatever he was saying, and crossed the fifty yards that separated the two groups. The warriors raised their bows threateningly.
The old woman ignored this as she stomped over to Khalid, a look of supreme annoyance on her face. Reaching into pouch at her waist, she drew out a tiny, hollowed out gourd and motioned for Khalid to come closer. Placing the gourd between her teeth, she whistled an odd, hollow tune through it and seized Khalid by the hand. Cringing slightly at the old woman's touch, Khalid tried not to look threatening as the warriors trained their bows on him. Preparing to defend himself against any attack, physical or magical, he was surprised when the old woman released his hand, practically flinging it away from her.
“You understand now?” she asked.
“Ah, yes, quite,” Khalid stammered, caught off guard.
“Good, you speak for the others then. Why are you here?” she demanded, with no preamble. The strength of her voice was belied by her frail form.
“Ah, yes,” Khalid agreed, getting a hold of himself. “Perhaps you would share coffee with us,” he offered, thinking quickly about what he knew etiquette, and deciding that Magol's type was probably the most appropriate in this situation. “We have brought gifts and items, yes, items of trade from the West. Let us sit and discuss these things and our purpose for being here.”
“We care nothing for your trinkets or your bribes,” the old woman retorted, her scowl darkening. “Explain yourself.”
“Ah, yes,” Khalid muttered, stalling as he searched for a way to placate the old woman.
What's she saying? What's going on?” Gorak growled, clearly frustrated. Whatever the old woman had done, it had only affected Khalid.
“Ah, she is not impressed.”
“Well, then tell her it ain't none of her business what we're doing here,” Gorak snarled.
“Ah, yes, quite,” Khalid muttered. “I don't think I'll tell her that.” He turned back to the woman, who clearly was following what he had been saying. He offered her a partial explanation, hoping to deflect scrutiny from their intentions, if not their destination. “Ah, we are on a pilgrimage, you see, to the mountain. Yes, a pilgrimage. These two are my guides, and she is my wife. Yes, quite. I am a scholar.”
“Martok does not welcome visitors,” the old woman warned them. She pointed at Azarek, “That one failed to mention that after he found you, he was bringing you back here.”
Khalid cursed under his breath, “Ah, that's the old woman that told you how to find me?” he said in the language of the devils, incredulously. “You might, yes, might have mentioned that.”
“You din't ask,” Azarek grunted.
“Now what's she saying?” Gorak growled. Khalid could sense his mood turning belligerent.
“Ah, she's warning us to stay away from the mountain, of course,” Khalid said.
“Now, I ask again, what do you want with Martok?” the old woman demanded.
“Ah, the mountain?” Khalid asked, starting to run out of lies. “We were led to believe it was uninhabited. We are on a pilgrimage from the West, you see...”
“Turn away from this place. Martok sleeps now and we dare not wake him.”
“Martok? Who's Martok? Is that the mountain, or something that lives in the mountain?” Khalid asked, somewhat confused by the old woman's usage of the strange word. Whatever she had done seemed to be conveying meanings as much as translating words, but he couldn't quite grasp the connotation of the word.
“Martok is the mountain and the mountain is Martok,” the old woman replied cryptically. “Long ago did the children of Martok worship at his feet, but their time has passed. Now only Martok remains, locked in restless slumber.”
“Ah, yes, and what is your role in this?” Khalid asked.
“We abide against his awakening, and deal with those who would hasten the arrival of that day.”
“Ah, yes, quite,” Khalid agreed. “If you will permit us a moment?” He turned to Gorak and Shayla. “Is there any use in guile? They have lived in the shadow of this mountain for some time. Surely they are not, yes, not wholly uneducated.”
“Maybe,” Gorak grunted. “Let's stop playing games then. Ask them if they're gonna stop us.” Khalid somewhat hesitantly translated.
The old woman pursed her lips slightly, and looked at the four of them. “You are not welcome here.” she said finally. “And should you think that you might sneak past our scouts, know this. When the children of Martok departed this place, they left upon it a powerful curse, to ensure that none would supplant them as Martok's favorites. Martok demands a heavy toll, should you seek to venture within.”
“And that is?” Khalid asked.
The old woman chuckled slyly, “His children surrendered that which they held most dear unto him to gain his favor, if you seek him out, he will demand the same of you.”
“Ah, yes, of course,” Khalid muttered. “What else would it be.” He drew the others aside and spoke quietly. “Well, now what do we do?”
“She could be lying,” Gorak growled bluntly as Khalid relayed the conversation. “Maybe they're just trying to keep us outta that place.”
“Arbaq didn't say anything about a curse,” Shayla pointed out.
“Ah, yes, well, my faith in Arbaq's judgement is somewhat diminished these days. Yes, quite.” Khalid responded “I can potentially deal with any magical seals that bar our entry but curses are another matter entirely.”
“That's a helluva distinction to be making now,” Gorak growled.
“The timliness of the statement does nothing, yes, nothing to diminish its relevance,” Khalid retorted. “We are on no specific time frame to procure what Arbaq requires. Perhaps we should investigate more fully what may lie in wait for us within that mountain before we rush headlong into it. Yes, quite.”
“What part of 'ancient Dwerro citadel' led you to believe this was gonna be easy?” Gorak snarled.
“Ah, the 'abandoned' part. In case you haven't noticed, no part of this journey has gone according to plan. By rights, yes, rights, we should be dead back in those mountains. All I am saying, is that, for a change, let us prepare for the situation, rather than react to it. Yes, quite.”
“How do you know we're gonna be able to find anything?” Gorak grunted as he considered Khalid's words.
“I don't, really,” Khalid admitted, “but you're telling me that there's a giant, yes, giant mountain, stuffed with relics of the Dwerro empire, and in the last three hundred years, nobody has tried to rob it, or study it.? Besides, it's entirely, yes, entirely possible that what we seek can be found within a library or alchemist's lab.”
“Shayla?” Gorak growled.
“I don't know,” she said. “I got the feeling that what we were doing was important to Arbaq. That maybe it was urgent. But,” she admitted, “he's hard to read. Maybe it's just a big business deal, or his reputation on the line. And you know what I risk.” She looked at Khalid. “What we risk.” Khalid knew what she meant and certainly wasn't going to disagree, guilty as he might feel.
“So where are you gonna look?” Gorak growled.
Khalid frowned and turned back to the old woman, “Ah, If we are forbidden to study the mountain itself, where else could we turn? Is there perhaps somewhere in Caer Morag?”
“If whatever you can seek can be found in books, then certainly the cities of the south are the place to look,” the old woman replied, clearly indifferent to the question. “But you would be best to simply return to the west. The south winds blow heavy with the stench of war.”
“Ah, yes, Dwerro,” Khalid replied. “Moving east from the mountains. You know that when they get things settled, yes, settled in the south, they will come looking for this place.”
“It is a possibility,” the old woman shrugged off the danger, clearly losing patience with the discussion. “But far from a certainty. The children of Martok have not faired well during their exile. Few if any remain, and the other Dwerro have sense enough not to come to this place uninvited. As should you.” Looking at all four of them in turn, she settled finally on Khalid and jabbed her finger at him. “You are not welcome here,” she repeated. “If you insist on travelling to Caer Morag, head in that direction and do not stray. If you are still within our lands when the sun rises, you will be removed.” There was no mistaking the threat in her tone. With that, she turned and walked past the line of warriors. The men slowly faded back, not turning away until the old woman and her guards were well ahead of them.
Abruptly dismissed, they stood around and watched as the tribesman departed. Gorak fumed silently until they were out of earshot and then burst out, “Alright, so what are we really gonna do?” For a while, they debated risking a confrontation with the villagers but in the end, decided that they had nothing to lose but a few weeks by travelling to the city. As they talked, Khalid conjured up their mounts and they began to gather up their packs. The rode out slowly, under the light of the full moon, passing through rows of planted crops and tilled volcanic earth. Within a few hours, they passed the border of the natives territory, clearly marked by a line of snow and frost that covered the ground beyond. Unwilling to travel further in the dark, they pitched their camp just on the other side, and vanished into the safety of the magical portal.
In the morning, when Khalid woke up, Gorak was already gone. Khalid gathered up his pack and dropped down into the snow, just as Gorak returned, swooping down out of the sky and change back into his natural form. Khalid eyed him suspiciously.
“Ah, where have you been?” he asked.
“Leaving our friends a little surprise,” Gorak rumbled, with a grin on his face that served only to heighten Khalid's anxiety.
“Ah, the kind of surprise that is likely to result in mob of angry villagers tracking us to the walls of Caer Morag?”
“Nah,” Gorak chuckled. “Not that I didn't think about it. I left 'em the kind that just might gain us a little currency if and when we come back this way.”
Consulting the map given to them by Arbaq, they traced out a route from the mountain to the city of Caer Morag that would keep them away from roads and other populated areas that might have drawn already drawn the attention of the Dwerro. Slowly, as they headed south, the tundra turned to steppes and the weather turned from late winter to early spring. In the first few days after leaving the mountain, the terrain was rugged and untamed but as they travelled, the sparse game trails had become well worn hunting paths. They debated the merits of approaching one of the small towns or villages marked on their map, with the hopes of learning the whereabouts of the Dwerro army, but each time they rode past, opting to avoid suspicion and rely on Gorak's scouting to carry them past any danger. By the end of the week, they were skirting small villages and crossing rutted, well worn roads daily. As the risk of detection increased, fortunately the terrain turned to their advantage. The sparse stands of trees that dotted the northern plains began to thicken and in places, became actual forest. The ground, which had been flat enough to see to the horizon in the north, here rolled with gentle hills, aiding their efforts further.
The morning of the eight day after their meeting with the tribesmen found them picking their way carefully through well groomed forest of ancient trees. Through a combination of caution and luck, they remained unnoticed during the journey. Although it was impossible to determine exactly where they were on the map, Khalid was certain that they were close to the city. Twice now, they had been forced out of their way by Dwerro patrols and the last village they had come across, a half day back, had been abandoned and razed. Khalid surmised that the Dwerro army had been through here in large enough numbers to scare off the population some time ago, but not in sufficient force to hold it.
The shadows were lengthening among the trees when Gorak returned, swooping to the ground in front of them and shimmering back into his own form. “We gotta be careful now,” he rumbled. “We're real close to the city.” Rather than scout ahead again, he led them on foot through the thinning trees. Ahead, Khalid could hear a sound, like the echo of distance thunder filtering through the brush. “Stay low,” Gorak growled. “We're coming out on a small rise overlooking the city.”
The queasiness in the pit of his stomach rose in concert with the din coming from the valley as Khalid followed Gorak out onto the ridge. From their vantage on a ridge on the north side, they could see down into the valley east and west of the city, and beyond, to the untamed wilderness that bordered the south. With a gasp, all thoughts of concealment fled from Khalid's mind as he stared at the chaos in the valley below. Everywhere he looked around the walls of the city flew the standards of Dwerro clans. Huge barricades had been erected across the main road running east-west through the city, on both sides. At regular intervals around the walls, regiments of Dwerro infantry were entrenched just beyond arrow range. To the west, a battery of siege engines, monstrous counterbalanced catapults, shuddered and groaned as teams of Dwerro artillerymen swarmed around them like tiny ants, reloading them. Khalid watched with a dreadful fascination as the crews finished their preparations and released the weights in quick succession. The missiles were still in the air when the sound of the grinding crash from the machines reached Khalid a few seconds later. The enormous stones flew threw the arc in a high arc and the skill of the Dwerro engineers became immediately apparent as three projectiles landed within a arm's width apart on a section of the wall. The first shattered into pieces; the second buckled the wall and the third smashed low into the base of the fortifications. For a second, Khalid thought perhaps they had missed their mark, when a large chuck of masonry slowly toppled out onto the field below. Dust and debris billowed out on the field as the weakened wall began to collapse, widening the breach. Trumpets began to sound in the camps on that side of the city and glittering rows of Dwerro infantry scrambled into position. On the hillside, the frantic task of reloading the catapults began again.
“If it wasn't for bad luck, we wouldn't have any luck at all,” Shayla muttered despondently as she watched the events unfolding below. Unable to believe their misfortune, Khalid was forced to agree with her bleak assessment once again.