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Thursday, March 11, 2010

Chapter Sixteen – The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep by Kelly D. Tolman

Posted by admin on January 12, 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.

On feast days to Moalthor I was given time to visit my companions, though at first I barely had energy talk.  Iven appeared as tired as me but Pascalli always looked as fresh as though he hadn’t lifted a finger.  During the rest of the cycle I saw them only rarely.  If an errand took us to another place of work we could chat for a short moment.  Otherwise we took our leisure with the Veldmen.

“I don’t understand how you manage it, old man,” said Iven as we lazed near a glowing coal fire.

“The trick is understanding perfectly the task you have been given,” replied Pascalli.  “After a few more lifetimes you will come to understand it the same way I have.  Besides, they do not have me swinging a hammer or shoveling coal.  Vrashnil is much more interested in the knowledge I have not chosen to share with the rest of the world.”

“That I can understand,” replied the smith.  “The machines they have here are beyond my grasp.  I’ve never seen the like.  They mix alloys of iron and other metals that I had not seen before.  I understand the forging of steel, and how to mix bronze as well as a half dozen different ways to weld and pull wire, but nearly all of it is done by hand with hard labor.  I’ve never seen iron wire turned so neatly.  All of it so uniform with no kinks or breaks along the line.”

“Open your eyes, then,” said Pascalli.  “There’s nothing magic about it.  No mysterious secret.  By and large it is the power of coal and steam that turn their engines.  They’ve a better annealing process than you have, and they understand that lime makes a better lubricant for wire than the oils you are accustomed to.”
“I watched Torsith repair the automatic hammer he uses,” I said.  “There is a cylinder inside a cylinder, and a number of wheels that turn when the cylinders move.  Or perhaps only one of them moves.  That is what makes the motion for the hammer.”

“You’ve a keen eye, lad,” agreed Iven.  “Perhaps you can help me make drawings of the machines when we leave.”  After that I tried extra hard to learn the ways of the Veldmen and understand exactly what Torsith and his apprentices did.

I ate at the forge, drank while gathering ore, and slept again near the warm coals.  After completing his two cycles of service Pascalli managed to convince Vrashnil that I should spend half the day every-other day at the equally rigorous torture of training my spear with the Veldmen guards who spent their entire lives learning the use of the weapon and perfecting that skill.

“The Barak-dun may come,” said Pascalli.  “The boy has some skill with his spear and you may find his help welcome.  Besides, your guards could use the practice against our foreign fighting style.”

At times I thought of the wide world above ground.  I thought of my farm and family in Dunston.  I even wondered at times what Laural might be doing, if she ever escaped the Blue Dragon.  I felt caught in a dream hidden from the sun.  When I mentioned this to Pascalli he laughed quietly.

“You’re beginning to change, Scratch,” he said.  “One day you’ll look into a stream and not recognize who you’ve become.”

The many markets of practice with Iven and Pascalli as we journeyed in the wild prepared me well for my time with the Veldmen guards.  After only two more cycles their captain allowed me to train with the regular guards.  Many times I thought I would collapse from the exhaustion, but a healthy draught of a wine they make from fungus brought me back to my senses so that I could finish the day.

“The Barak-dun, or people of stone as they call themselves, may attack during the winter,” warned Pascalli as we rested during Moalthor’s holiday.  “They are intelligent creatures, similar in many ways to the Kaarum, but much more organized and dangerous.”

“Where do they live?” I asked.

“They have many tunnels and caves throughout the mountains, though generally farther north.  I believe they may have a loose alliance with the Kaarum far beyond the Northern Crown.”

“What do they look like?” I asked.  Pascalli had a way of exciting my curiosity.

“Like short yellow or green, hairless men.  You will have no trouble recognizing them.”

Some sixty days into this nightmare, just as my body had adjusted to the rhythm of the work and rest, the Barak-dun attacked the city as Pascalli had foreseen.  As an honorary member of their guard I came immediately to defend a tunnel at the far end of the city.  All lights extinguished at once.  Though I have never found a creature that can see in such absolute darkness, the Veldmen have ears and noses as keen as a dog’s.  I neither heard nor smelled the enemies approaching, but I felt the soldier next to me tense and I knew they were upon us.

At the captain’s order someone struck a small spark for light and we all leapt into action.  The Barak-dun fought viciously according to their nature.  They had tipped their spears with sticky venom gathered from fungi.  A companion next to me fell instantly after a cut in the shoulder during our ambush.  He clutched in agony at the burning, bleeding flesh.  To my own surprise I summoned the discipline to ignore him for the moment and sent my father’s spear into one target’s chest.  Their armor appeared to have been scavenged from fallen enemies for it did not seem to fit properly, and offered little protection against our far superior weapons.  My height and reach gave me an unexpected advantage that I quickly put to good use.

I am glad to say that the battle ended on a victorious note for the most part.  Unfortunately two of the wounded were dragged away when the Barak-dun retreated.

“What will happen to them?” I asked Pascalli as we counted the missing.

“The Barak-dun will sacrifice them to Wolfar,” replied Vrashnil sadly.

“Can’t we do something?” I asked.  “If we hurry we can still catch them.”

“You are willing to try to find them?” asked Vrashnil.  “Why?”

“We can’t just abandon them.”  I didn’t know what else to say.  I had never before considered leaving a comrade behind.

“Who will join him?” asked the king.  “Who will bring our brothers back?”

Pascalli immediately offered his services, as did Iven.  “I shall not have you wandering these great halls unsupervised,” snorted Pascalli indignantly.  Of the Veldmen, only their High Captain, Lagathin offered his spear.

By Lagathin’s calculations the Barak-dun would again celebrate their holy sacrifices in four days.  The Barak-dun did not often build their own tunnels, but rather used natural caverns or stole the tunnels of the Veldmen.  Unless they had made some new route, Lagathin could track them without a problem.  I had no idea how we would enter their holding unnoticed and leave again with the prisoners.

I don’t know what sort of a leader I made on that silly adventure, no-one ever bothered to tell me if I did well or not.  Pascalli offered no suggestions, insight, or help of any kind other than to say, “We’ll need plenty of luck.”

Three days later we sneaked up on the Barak-dun guards.  Apparently the Veldmen did not have a practice of making war in return because the guards were lazy to the point of absurdity.  Even when they clearly heard Iven stumble in the passageway, they argued amongst themselves rather than sending someone to find us.  Those four we dispatched unawares and without trouble.  The hundreds inside their village remained a distinct problem.

Not much burns underground, at least not without some planning and forethought.  I did not have an amazing plan, but the one I put together on the spot worked reasonably well.  For flammables we had a certain quantity of oil, some alcohol, some fungus from which the oil was derived, and four corpses.  I am not proud to say that I defiled the dead, not even the dead of a race as foul as the Barak-dun, but I did.  We lit the bodies into a full blaze and each of us dragging one charged into the city.  Then we cast them aside, careful not to smother the flames and in the confusion looked for our captive comrades.  Such a smothering ruckus and echo I hoped never to see or hear or feel again.  The odor overwhelmed the senses, causing Barak-dun women and children to flee in terror and agony and even their stoutest warriors to vomit.  Aided by the cover of smoke we escaped detection until our wise captive companions found us.  At the first sound of confusion they had run from their captors, who merely stood guard with spears and had not bound them for lack of ropes or chains.  Together we made a final run to the exit and kept sprinting lest the sure pursuit overtake us.  Veldmen are a stout race but not one for winning contests of speed.

Such a tale among the Veldmen had not often been told before, and Torsith made me recount it again and again as I returned to the forge.  Vrashnil rewarded us all handsomely with any trinkets we desired and told Pascalli that his debt had been repaid more times than could be counted.  I replaced my chain shirt with one of much finer quality, such as would turn the blades of most spears and swords without taking the least dent or scratch.  At Torsith’s forge I learned the strength of patience and the value of steady effort.  Under Lagathin’s careful eye my skill with the spear developed into a love of tactics in motion.  Though I took with me a pocket full of gold and silver and enough memories to fill a lifetime, the greatest treasure I realized came from the knowledge Pascalli so carefully bought with my labor.

I blinked stupidly when I first stepped back into the cold sunlight.  Though winter still gripped the high lands, I knew that lower down spring must be close.  Torsith’s forge melted into a kind memory as I mounted my horse once more.  I breathed in the fresh mountain air and pointed my horse after Pascalli.

“Back at it, then Scratch,” said Pascalli.  “A boy never grew into a man by blinking away the sunlight.”
After the Veldmen, Pascalli took a more focused approach to my training.  Each day we focused on specific topics rather than fill my head with generalities.  “We’re returning to the realm of men.  You will need to learn how to deal with men as men if you wish to survive.”

“How?” I asked.

“Practice, of course.”  The wizard winked.  “We’ve a great many roads to travel before we reach our destination.  Between now and then we’ll find many ways for you to learn.”

Copyright 2008 Kelly David Tolman

On to The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep Fantasy Novel Chapter Seventeen

Back to The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep Fantasy Novel Chapter Fifteen

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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.

Copyright 2008 Kelly David Tolman

On to The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep Fantasy Novel Chapter Sixteen

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