Posted by admin on April 6, 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.
I admit I had tried not to think much of home in all my journeys. I asked for pen and parchment, and she had none, for she did not write and had no use for them. I still had some money and when I asked for directions to a shop, she put it out of my head quickly and instead offered to go and buy them for me. That is when I posted my first letter. Master Baghorn knew of a merchant seeking profit in Havensod by way of the smaller villages. The merchant agreed to deliver my letter.
True to her word I did not lift a finger while a guest in Iven’s home. I thought he would be angry with me loafing about, or just watching him idly at the forge. He was a changed man. A thousand worries vanished from his face. His sons are older than me, and had already married, though they lived close by.
“I’ve an idea of how to build some of those machines the Veldmen used,” said Iven as he idly swept the floor of his shop. His home and workshop sat next to the canal that ran through the artisan district, and a small waterwheel powered some of his machines. “My wire puller needs repair anyway, and I’d like to try it with steam this time.”
“Sounds like a fine idea, but you’ll need lime I think if you want to pull it that fast,” I said.
“Your right about that, though I think I know where to get it. I’ve a bit of coin laid by from our travels. If you’ve finished your letter home, I’d find it a favor if you could find those old drawings we made and sort them out for me.”
I found our sketches in the half un-packed bags, and worked easily. Iven’s home was large, and the balcony upstairs offered a view of the street where I could watch the colorful traffic of the city. The university of Anascrag stood on a low hill not far from the shop, and students and nobles frequented the road. Further out the dome of Tylos’ temple dominated the center of the city. I counted three palaces in the northern half of the city, with the largest occupying a hill in the northwest.
Pascalli knocked on the door just about supper time some two markets later. My gear had been repaired, my horse replaced, and he even supplied me with new clothes and a new hat. I accepted the gifts, reluctantly, and he saw the question in my eyes. “You’ll look the ragtag again soon enough, don’t worry about that. In the meantime we’ve other matters to attend to which require a slight change of appearance.”
“When do we leave?” I asked.
“As soon as you finish your meal,” he replied, and winked at Whinnie. “I’m sorry to call so late, but I’ve not had a chance to drop by sooner. Could you spare a bowl of porridge for an old man?”
“Sit down, at once,” scolded Whinnie. “You leave him and take him as if he were baggage. Porridge it will be for you and nothing better.” Despite her warning, Whinnie served the finest they owned.
Iven seemed a little detached while we ate, and I wondered a bit at his silence. Afterwards he found me to help me pack the few things I owned. He brought me my father’s spear, newly sharpened.
“Do as Pascalli asks,” he counseled. “He still has a mean trick or two up his sleeve, and many hard lessons left for you, but only because he loves you Colter.” He never used my proper name, and for a moment I thought he had said something else.
“I’ll miss you,” I admitted, though I felt odd saying it aloud.
Iven harrumphed, but nodded. “You’ll have little enough time to think of anything, least of all me. But you’re always welcome back here. Remember that. You’ve friends along the way, though maybe no home to go to. Sooner or later that wizard will turn you loose on the world, just don’t forget who your friends are then.”
“I won’t,” I replied.
“And don’t get mixed up with anymore silly girls.”
“I won’t.”
“Or knaves.”
“I won’t.”
“And by Tylos keep your blade sharp and your armor clean.” The smith seemed as full of advice as I had ever known him.
“Do you know where we are going?” I asked.
“It doesn’t really matter. You’ve a future and greatness ahead of you. Already you’ve done more than most men dream. Keep your head and remember the forge you came from.”
Iven hugged me tighter than Whinnie as I said goodbye, and wept as only a father can who is sending off a son who may never return. Whinnie filled my pack with sweet cakes and carefully packaged treats for the journey.
“I’ve little to give you that you might need,” said Whinnie. “There is a nice man who collects strange herbs, and he’s given me some bloodsap and a few leaves of tyrnwood. It isn’t much, but it may be useful.” She gave me a packet of the herbs wrapped in a small cloth.
“Come along, Scratch,” said Pascalli. “We’ve a bit to do yet today.”
I followed the old wizard up a winding lane towards the center of the city. We passed houses and shops which grew larger and larger. The finely combed fields of the wealthy sprawled across the upper portions of the city, and I saw private guards in red and gold livery watch us suspiciously as we rode.
“Don’t bother speaking when we arrive,” said Pascalli.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“To see one of the nobles.” I wanted to know who and why, but restrained the question. “She has information that we can use.”
Pascalli reigned his horse at a tall wrought-iron gate and pointed to a thin rope attached to a brass bell. “Let them know we’re here, Scratch.”
I rang the bell vigorously and almost immediately a man with a soft green surcoat embroidered with an eagle emerged from a small guardhouse near the gate. Beyond the gate, a narrow carriage path cut through a short-cropped lawn until it reached a wide patio in front of an enormous house.
The guard reviewed us cautiously. Pascalli tipped his hat and smiled, but said nothing. “You are expected,” said the guard at length. If you will ride to the house, Jorgon will see to your horses.”
“I thought Jorgon had given up his duties,” said Pascalli with a smile.
“He couldn’t bear to be with his wife that much and came back within a market.” The guard chuckled. “He still complains as much as ever, but he only half means it these days.”
A surly gray bearded man took our horses when we dismounted at the house, and before we reached the door it opened. “Go directly to the dining hall,” instructed a stocky young woman.
A woman with gray hair restrained by a series of pins and crowned with a small green hat waited for us at the far end of an enormous oak table. Her eyes commanded the entire room. A young woman waited silently behind her. The surface of the table reflected the hanging candelabra.
“Leave us, Maris,” said the old woman. The girl moved silently past us and closed the dining room door. “You may sit, if you wish.”
I glanced at Pascalli who winked back and smiled broadly. I pulled out one of the several enormous chairs and sat as quietly and still as possible.
“The estate has changed little since I was here last,” said Pascalli with a smile.
“You come too seldom, my friend.” She turned her eyes on me. “You are Kyven’s boy? What is your proper name?”
“Colter,” I replied.
“Colter was my father’s name,” she said. “My name is Lady Dairtha. I am a cousin to the Taradurk’s though from what I’ve heard that won’t mean anything to you. Your father was a good friend once upon a time. I was sorry to hear that he had died.”
“We can’t stay long,” said Pascalli. “The Kaarum are already moving. By winter they will reach Darnuth Keep and begin to breach the passes. I we don’t stop them there they will ravage across the East again.”
“With the Festival coming we won’t be able to recover,” replied Lady Dairtha.
“Which is why I need to know how dangerous the roads are in the west,” said Pascalli.
“Avoid the highway. The Taradurk is not well. His son’s will not trust you the way he did.” She seemed lost in thought as she spoke.
“Zaban has solid judgment. I’m less worried about him than Favisham,” said Pascalli.
“Favisham is pressing hard to carry the festival this time. He has poured everything into raising a whelp of sufficient strength. You won’t need to worry about him until after the festival. All his attention is here, and his agents are few and weak outside of Shellburg,” said Lady Dairtha.
“Please warn Narnal that the kaarum will return. Three winters, no more, and they will try the eastern passes again. He must continue to prepare,” said Pascalli. He stood up and motioned for me to follow.
“So quickly? Not even to break bread with me?” she asked.
“Look kindly on the lad when he returns,” said Pascalli.
“If he returns,” replied the lady. Then she broke into a smile. “I will be waiting.”
I think I expected Anascrag to be a dangerous place for us. I knew that the ties to the emperor were strong, and it was simply not possible for us to have wandered so long and word not reach the authorities. “Don’t you think we’ve stretched our luck staying here so long?” I asked Pascalli.
“Sure enough, lad, but we’ve more than a few friends about,” he said. “Now ride just behind me. Keep your eyes open and your mouth closed. The nobility may not be aware of your presence but most will certainly recognize me. I’d like to slip out of the city without drawing attention to ourselves, if possible.”
Copyright 2008 Kelly David Tolman
On to The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep Fantasy Novel Chapter Twenty Nine
Back to The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep Fantasy Novel Chapter Twenty Seven
Posted by admin on March 30, 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.
If Bracken had resented my presence before, he now openly challenged even Baghorn’s judgment. If we hadn’t needed all the men to help with driving the wagons and handling the stock, I’m sure Baghorn would have dismissed one of us on the spot. We pushed the oxen south as fast as we dared, stopping at villages only long enough to rest, rather than hunt additional profits. Baghorn seemed convinced that his luck had finally run completely dry, and his only hope of avoiding ruin lay behind the gates of Anascrag and his own home.
Like Bracken, I wondered how or why Laural would disappear without any warning. We found their trail easily enough. They kept to the road, heading south, but the wagons had no hope of catching them. Quivain struck east at the first branch of the road, and we heard nothing more of the pair. In addition to the horses, they had taken food and supplies for a long journey, for which Pascalli agreed to recompense the caravan. “Your luck’s not as bad as you might believe, Baghorn,” said the wizard. He smiled and slapped the merchant on the back. “You’ll come through all this with a tidy profit, and a wealth of experience free of charge.”
“Experience is never free, and usually more costly than it’s worth,” replied Baghorn, only slightly reassured by the fresh coins in his pocket.
As we neared Anascrag, traffic increased substantially. Merchants mixed with adventurers and nobles, all beginning the gathering for the Festival of Spears. Although each individual noble retained his or her own guards, the blue and white uniforms of the imperial troops became commonplace. They patrolled the highway more regularly, keeping peace and offering comfort to the nobility.
One carriage in particular caught my eye. The wheels were narrow and taller than most, and the gold inlay covered nearly the entire vehicle. “Is that the emperor’s,” I asked Pascalli.
“No, lad. Narnal hasn’t attended the festival since he won the crown many winters past. That crest, the two-headed hawk is the family of Taradurk. Lord Taradurk is regent over the entire western empire.”
“This is the east,” I said.
“His family is wealthy, powerful, and well-connected to the emperor. They often visit Dynwater.”
The carriage curtain slipped aside briefly and I caught a glimpse of steel gray hair atop a solid frame. A moment of recognition seemed to pass between Pascalli and the man, but he pulled the curtain shut again and the carriage rambled past the caravan.
Though it was a large city by the standards of the empire, Anascrag carried the feel of a village still. The people decorated the open plazas and small houses with late blossoms and painted their homes and shops brightly with every color. Shopkeepers plied their wares with simple patience rather than yelling. Children played behind houses and in the streets, where wagons and people alike meandered with unhurried steadiness. Anascrag was a slow, self sufficient, unimposing city that captured my imagination and memory.
Iven brightened the moment the spires of Anascrag’s cathedral to Tylos became visible. Every moment his impatience grew, until I thought he would burst. We had not entered a large city since Havensod, and my experience there was unimpressive to say the least. I hoped there would be a clean inn with food I did not have to cook and a bed I could sleep in.
A large stone wall surrounds Anascrag, and that wall is visible for many kilometers in all directions across the vast wheat fields surrounding the city. Above the wall towers the great cathedral to Tylos. City guards patrol the walls regularly, and the four city gates, one for each direction of the compass, close at night. Admittance to the city is regulated but generally casual. The center of the empire is a mix of many cultures, and Anascrag’s cobblestone streets and alleys hold a variety of secrets from many places despite the unassuming look of it all. The city guards demanded our weapons until Pascalli produced letters of writ certifying his status as lord of Gratterskeep and my status as his knight and personal guard. At the time I thought Pascalli was merely passing off a lie so that we could remain armed. I later discovered, as will any historian, that Pascalli was indeed lord of Gratterskeep and that he had the authority to call me his knight and to allow me to bear arms for his protection. Being lord and knight respectively, brought us much improved status in the city.
Anascrag is divided into a number of districts, each bearing certain restrictions according to social status. As a farmer, for example I would have been relegated to some of the outer portions of the city while most of the middle and all of the inner portions were closed. Peasants and slaves could not pass out of the districts near the city walls without permission. In the middle of the city wealthier merchants and lesser nobles mingled, while the innermost portions were reserved for the wealthy nobles and the royal family who governed the city and surrounding lands. As a noble, however unimportant, Pascalli could be allowed access to some of the finer inns and services, and as his servant I was allowed many of the same privileges. Because we arrived late that first night, we decided to take up lodging at an inn closer to the outskirts, in one of the artisans’ districts, close to where Iven lived.
Iven departed the caravan the moment we passed the city gates. Baghorn frowned as he left, but said nothing. “We’ll help you unload your wares, if you wish,” offered Pascalli.
“Not at all,” replied Baghorn good-naturedly. “I’ve servants already for that.” He paid the guards and dismissed them with a smile. “It’s good to be home again. Good luck to you.”
I watched the caravan disappear, waiting for Pascalli to make up his mind. “We’ll spend a night at an inn I know. Iven needs time to settle in again.”
The smells of the place nearly overpowered me. Women, painted grotesquely, danced to idiotic tunes strummed out on over-zealous instruments. The western empire is famous for the class distinction, and all women of a certain profession are painted to disguise their true identities and class. Anascrag is a mixture of east and west, especially among the poor created mockeries of both sides.
Bracken stumbled into the place half-way through our meal. He smelled of liquor and swayed as he walked. The leer in his eye spoke of trouble, but I hoped he would seek it elsewhere. He planted himself less than a meter from my chair and growled. “I’m done with you whelp.” I can’t say what else he may have added after that. His boot connected with my jaw, and a cracking white light flashed across my eyes followed by darkness.
The familiar sound of Iven’s hammer already rang out a welcome to all who passed by early in the morning. I arrived somewhat later in the day, but my spirits rose immediately when I recognized the familiar tune.
“Have you eaten yet, Scratch?” he asked. His face broke into a larger grin than I had ever seen.
“No, sir,” I replied.
“Then go inside and get some breakfast from Whinnie. I expected the old man would send you my way, and judging from the way you look he’s been up to his old tricks again.” I gave him a shrug and headed into the house. “Mind you don’t take to long,” he called after me. “I’ve a bellows here that needs attention!”
Whinnie was as plump and kind a person I have ever met. Her hair, once blonde, was now streaked with gray. Her face, though kind and still happy was lined from worry about husband and children. Every moment her hands moved, constantly cleaning or mending or cooking, for the work never ended. Opposite I suppose in many ways to my mother who never appeared to do much, as a lady should, but who always kept a spotless house. My mother appeared weak, thin, frail, but stood in battle and faced down anyone foolish enough to cross her. Whinnie, larger and stouter than most women, had the strength of enduring rather than conquering.
She gladly took me in, and for a few short days became a second mother to me. “Scratch is not a proper name,” she said straight off. “I’m sure my thick skulled husband has long forgotten your true name, but I’ll not be calling a child something as unseemly as Scratch. What’s your true name, child?”
“Colter Halfspear,” I said. “I don’t much care for Scratch. It’s just what Iven called me when we first met, so everyone else does too, and I’m supposed to be traveling in secret.” I felt again during those days that I was again the child, again the boy who never left his village. I felt I could stay and enjoy and be loved again, and maybe, just maybe the curse wouldn’t follow me.
“You’re not traveling now, Colter,” she replied. Her voice was soft and gentle, more soothing to me than the balm she rubbed over my bruises. “We’ve no need for secrets here, but if you want to keep some for a rainy day, you go right ahead.” She gave me a wink and a smile. “Now I imagine that my ever-loving, demon driven, forge-master told you to join him at the bellows. There will be none of that as long as I am mistress of this hovel. You’ve journeyed thousands of kilometers only to find a wicked ambush at the hands of a conspiring wizard, whatever his intentions were. Today, and until the wizard decides to fetch you, you can rest and maybe even think of home.”
Copyright 2008 Kelly David Tolman
On to The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep Fantasy Novel Chapter Twenty Eight
Back to The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep Fantasy Novel Chapter Twenty Six
Posted by admin on March 23, 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.
We turned south again, and Baghorn seemed in good spirits after acquiring more wool than anticipated. The weavers of Anascrag would pay handsomely for the quality we brought. As the markets passed, Pascalli mentioned his fears of the Kaarum again.
“They’ve had time to learn what happened in full at Havensod. They know we’re watching. It’s only a matter of time before they attack again,” he warned.
Baghorn also wished to reach Anascrag, where he had a home and shop, but seemed in no hurry. “The nobles won’t have arrived yet, and they’re the ones with the gold. If I return now my wife will spend all my profits before the festival even draws close. You’ve filled your contract. You’re free to go if you wish. The roads should be relatively safe now, and the wagons will be cumbersome for most robbers to think of stealing.”
“We’ll see you through to Anascrag,” I replied.
Pascalli began scouting ahead after that. He seemed preoccupied, though I could not guess his mind. Iven talked of nothing but his home. I drifted into the routine of daily work. The burdened wagons made only slow progress while we labored over the narrow roads which no one bothered to maintain.
Pascalli pulled me aside after returning from his scouting venture one evening. “I found the trail of Kaarum.”
“How close?” I asked.
“A few hours, I would guess. They were heading south ahead of us, but they could easily double back or circle around again. They’re avoiding the road, of course, but that means little.” He seemed more concerned than I expected. “I think they are scouting in force. Either that or this group has been lost a long time since Havensod. I counted a dozen tracks, but I’m sure there are more.”
“We better position ourselves for an attack, then,” I suggested. “They will be scavenging for food. It won’t take them long to realize that we’re here.”
We explained the situation privately to Baghorn. His face betrayed his alarm, though he kept his voice as calm as he could. “I’ve never heard of so many out here without their full army close by. If they’ve come down from the mountains again we’ve no chance at all.”
“True enough,” agreed Pascalli, but he winked. “They are either lost or scouting in force. I am certain any army is still hiding in the mountains. Though they will most certainly attack us if they find us, we have sufficient men here to save ourselves if we are smart about it.”
“I’ve no head for battle,” conceded Baghorn. “If we’re to live, then I suppose we’ll have to trust your judgment and hope for the best.”
He left us to organize the defenses and answer the questioning faces of his wife and servants. Pascalli looked at me expectantly, but I had no plan to offer. I glanced around the camp, quickly recounting the number of wagons, people, and livestock.
“The stream to the west will make approach from that direction difficult,” I said aloud as I thought through the plan. Pascalli smiled in response, but didn’t interrupt. “We can effectively block the road north and south with the wagons, which leaves the east open.”
“They are not highly intelligent creatures, and will likely take the easiest path, so they should choose the east, though they are also very unpredictable,” said Pascalli.
We bedded down for the night with the sure expectation of attack. Bracken and I shared the first watch. Iven lay near the wagons at the south edge of camp, but I knew he would sleep only lightly if at all until his turn at watch. Pascalli lay closer to the fire, but he also would likely not be asleep despite his pretense. Among the others nerves might keep some of them from their rest, but any experienced soldier steels sleep when offered the chance.
Though a veteran of many fights, Bracken still held little respect for any other man’s sword. He loafed near the fire, keeping the altitude’s chill at bay. In the distance a lone wolf cried out in the darkness. The sound echoed false, and I strained my ears for any other sound from the darkness. Bracken emptied his pipe into the fire, sending the sweet fragrance of the western leaf he favored across the camp.
“There’s nothing out there but wind and crickets,” he grumbled. “You jump at everything.”
The creak of leather rose above the muffled shift of leaves in the darkness. I drew an arrow and fired at a shadow blocking the reflection of the stars.
“They’re coming,” I cried.
My shout opened the attack as if my voice had the power to drive them forward. Dark animal shapes poured into the camp from the east and south. Bracken whipped his sword free and leapt to cover the space between the wagons blocking the south end of the camp. Someone behind me fired an arrow as I loosed a second shot. The first Kaarum reached the camp and I dropped the bow in favor of my spear. As expected, Pascalli met the attack at my side, his sword beating the familiar rhythm against the horns and claws of the Kaarum.
I set my spear against a charge and caught my enemy below his guard. The spear tore free, and I let it fall. As I drew my father’s sword I glanced south to see Iven crushing into another with his hammer. I looked quickly to Quivain’s blankets, but they were empty. Baghorn handled his rapier expertly. He closely guarded his wife and daughter while the servants struggled with cooking knives and logs from the fire.
Desperately, like wild cats forced into starvation, the Kaarum threw themselves at us. My warning had given us just enough time to bring our weapons into play, but they outnumbered us almost two to one. Two drivers fell to the onslaught. Their attackers tried to drag them back into the forest rather than face continued danger. Pascalli chased them down while I retrieved my bow. All around me, the frightened faces stared in disbelief at the remains of violence.
“Drag the Kaarum into the woods,” I said. “Let the scavengers have them if they can stomach them. Who’s hurt and who can help?”
“Only a bit of a scratch here,” said Bracken. “I think the drivers got the worst of it.”
“We’re all right,” said Baghorn. “I don’t see Laural.”
“Quivain is also missing,” said Pascalli as he added fuel to our dwindling fire.
“I’ll get a shovel,” offered Iven. “You can worry about the rogue another day. If the Kaarum dragged him off then I say good riddance. If he bolted then it’s the same.”
“I’ll have me a look,” said Bracken. “I don’t fancy Laural would slip off without at least telling me.”
“She’s gone,” said Pascalli. “Her bag is missing, and so is the pack Quivain won at dice just two markets back. Their trail will be easy enough to follow when the sun rises, if you’ve the inclination. They’ve taken a pair of horses as well, though, and they’ll have several hours start.”
“I knew he would bring nothing but trouble,” grumbled Baghorn. “You should have killed him when you had the chance.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but Pascalli spoke first. “We are not the masters of life and death. Scratch did what he thought best, and his thinking kept you alive tonight. Any evil that comes of this will hurt him harder than you, that much is certain. If it’s the price of horses that concerns you, we’ll pay.” He drew a bag of coins from within his cloak. He slowly counted them over to Baghorn. “We’ll drive your wagons to Anascrag, but the pace will double. I’ve no concern for your profits or the welfare of your caravan, though I respect the boy’s judgment there. I’ve business in the west that cannot wait.”
Bracken watched the coins drop into the merchant’s hand and followed the bag as it disappeared again into Pascalli’s cloak. He caught my eye and turned quickly to help Iven with the dead. I moved to help restore order to the mess but Pascalli pulled me aside.
“By winter the Kaarum will be forced to move. Already some are willing to try the wilderness away from the main body. When the food disappears entirely on the other side of the mountains they will be forced out. Time is growing short.” The earnestness in his eyes frightened me a little. I relied on his calm reassurance to bolster my own bravado.
“How long will it take us to reach the keep?” I asked.
“We’ve many markets ahead of us yet, and tasks to perform before we get there. We can reach Last Gate by the end of summer if nothing more than expected goes wrong. Any later than that and we may have trouble surviving the winter.”
Copyright 2008 Kelly David Tolman
On to The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep Fantasy Novel Chapter Twenty Seven
Back to The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep Fantasy Novel Chapter Twenty Five
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
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