Chapter Fifteen - The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep by Kelly D. Tolman

Posted by admin on January 5, 2009

The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep is a fantasy novel describing the adventures of Colter Halfspear as he becomes a man and an initiate of magical powers.

True to his word, Pascalli led us to the base of a high cliff overlooking the sprawling mountains. All around us snow glistened in the sunlight and a chill wind bit at our ears and noses. A wide cave opened into the side of the mountain and disappeared into blank darkness beyond.

As we rode into the cave, the sunlight began to disappear and the footing became dangerous for our horses. We dismounted and Pascalli instructed me to light a lantern he had brought along for just this purpose. “We won’t need it long, but the light is better than that of a torch. Mind your feet now.”

We trudged into the blackness. I had never before ventured underground, or explored any cave. Truly the depths of the earth hold many great mysteries, but finding them requires both courage and skill. Fear gripped my throat as I guessed at the shadows and echoes just out of sight.

“Relax, boy,” advised Iven. “You’re making enough noise to wake the entire mountain.”
I realized then that I had scuffed my feet something awful on the floor and that with each step I sent sand and small pebbles skidding out of sight. I quickly began to move more lightly and consciously tried to relax.
“Yes,” agreed Pascalli heartily. “Be careful with your horse. He is not used to this. Step where I step. The ceiling is going to slope down here very soon. There are also traps set in the floor so be careful where you go or we may all regret having chosen this path.”

I thought about reminding the wizard that I had not chosen any path in particular but thought better of it. Instead I concentrated on keeping my horse, which was apparently terrified of being underground, from bolting. After what I would estimate to be close to an hour Pascalli stopped and asked me to bring up the lantern closer. In front of us a passage sloped steeply down into the earth. To the right, a large stone painted with blue letters gave some warning that I could not decipher.

Pascalli spoke in a language I did not understand and a rumbling voice similar to Iven’s when he was angry answered him. I recognized our names given during the exchange but could gather nothing further. Then the voice disappeared and Pascalli said, “We are to wait here for a while. The guards need to verify that we are who we say we are. In any event I expect we should make ourselves comfortable.”

The Veldmen returned a few hours later to find us lounging on their doorstep. Each of them carried a short spear or halberd finely crafted with blades polished to perfection. About them their armor moved seamlessly and silently, a trick of their skill and mastery that mankind can only dream about. Their hair and beards varied in color from deepest red to fiery golden. The tallest of them stood a full head and a half shorter than me. Pascalli spoke on our behalf in their deep rumbling language and we followed them into their realm.

Fear and wonder stilled my heart as I followed the dark path into the mountain. The path led simple and straight, though I guessed they had built safeguards along the way. Though the tunnel did not turn, we often changed sides as we walked along the corridor, and our guides often paused to listen before continuing.

They brought us into their city, a bright cavern carved from living rock lit by cunning lanterns and mirrors. “My lord Vrashnil, I have come to pay what I owe in return for your services at the battle near Havensod,” said Pascalli.

“You come slowly, Black Wizard,” replied Vrashnil. His voice rang loudly through their city. He held obvious contempt and thinly veiled mistrust for Pascalli. “The race of men broke the world, and still we wait for you to put it back together again. You show little reason for us to trust you. Four cycles to Moalthor you promised. I say five. Much time has passed.”

“I offer ten from the boy,” replied Pascalli.

Vrashnil laughed a hollow laugh and smiled. “You bring us a gift. Do you betray him as you betrayed the darkunder? Will you leave him here while you wander the wide cold world or do you expect our welcome?”

“For Iven and myself I offer two cycles in exchange for food and comfort through the winter,” said Pascalli. “The boy travels with me of his own will. He can decide for himself how he feels about me.”

“Your payment is generous. Two cycles each,” agreed Vrashnil.

One of the guards took me by the arm and began to lead me away. Pascalli stopped him. “You’ve sold me as a slave,” I said. I felt the anger burning in my face.

“Yes and no,” replied Pascalli, as cheerful as a summer’s day. “Ten cycles works out to about a hundred days, more or less. They do not count time as you and I. The time will pass rapidly enough.”

“A slave is still a slave,” I said.

“You will be asked to work, but the work is no more difficult than what have already done. Iven and I will also work. Most likely you will be asked to assist one of the smiths. Pay attention. Keep your eyes open. There are things here that you cannot learn anywhere else. I did not sell you into slavery, so much as buy you an education I could not otherwise give you.”

The resentment in my heart did not die as they led me away. They took me to a large forge where several Veldmen labored. A stout fellow with a thick beard looked me over with disapproving eyes. He said something in their language, and by his tone I could tell he was not happy. The guards left us and I immediately began to discover the secrets of mastering any craft.

Torsith ruled his forge and those who worked and served there with infinite patience and painstaking care. The Veldmen do not measure time by the rising and setting of the sun, but rather by the sleeping and waking of a person. Each waking moment for the first twenty days or so, Torsith directed everything I did. He refused to speak my language, but he patiently explained the words of their tongue many times each day until I understood what he wanted. I gathered fuel for their fires, fetched tools, and watched as they crafted the most intricate works of metal and stone I had ever seen.
Precision clocks, the like of which are not found anywhere in the empire, sound the rising each morning. Each person, no matter their station performs their duties tirelessly. About twenty hours later the clock tells of the time to sleep, and all work stops. Every ten days, or cycle as they call it, the Veldmen rest from their labors and offer their rites to the god Moalthor from whom they received the gift of fire and the knowledge of the forge.

Despite Pascalli’s reassurances, I found the work far more difficult, especially at first, than anything I had ever done before. To the Veldmen, work is life. One lives to work. One joys in it, and receives fulfillment from it alone. A master smith may spend a hundred hours crafting a piece to perfection simply to melt it down again and start over just for the sheer joy of working. Rest and recreation have a time and place among the Veldmen, but the rites of Moalthor carefully regulate these diversions.

On to The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep Fantasy Novel Chapter Sixteen

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