The moon hung in the sky like a great godly eyeball winking at the mortality below as Lars trudged down the side of the mountain covered in a black soup of night. Everywhere about him, the sounds of the creatures of night echoed and screeched to one another as his feet crunched each fallen leaf, and the faint glow of firelight from whence he came faded slowly with his descent down the mountain. His keen dwarven eyes grasped the surface of the round looking for traces of the horses which he quickly found as he spied an abundance of overturned earth and leaves. However, to his dismay, the tracks split into two separate directions away from the campsite at the mouth of Monmüth. Lars stood in place, glancing at the beams of moonlight that penetrated the forest canopy, and sighed with his hands on his hips. Thinking to himself that he would rather end his search in the direction of Altendon, Lars quickly chose the path that headed in the general direction of where he believed Gr'Valdth to lie far in the distance, jostling his axe in his hand to reassure himself of his ability to defend himself against the unknown.
It was only a few moment when Lars began to pick the scent of blood from the forest aromas of wood and earth, and he began to frown. Telling himself that the blood trail upon the soft breeze did not necessarily mean that he was smelling the blood of horses, he persevered, pushing the dense limbs and vines away from his face. As he cautiously stepped through the low lying branches of the shorter evergeens, the smaller denizens of the forest scurried out of the way of his stubby footsteps. For a strange moment of the time, Lars took notice at the tiny mice running into their hidden burrows, softly musing in attempt to maintain his spirit, "That's right! There be one master of this wood tonight, sirs." As Lars' voice paused, it was not his voice that echoed from the trees at that moment, but rather a more familiar sound. His momentary lapse of self-awareness, indeed, had awoken a stirring in the forest, and a eerie breeze blew harder than the rest before this time sending a quick shudder through Lars' spine as he stopped and listened. Suddenly, there was a loud screech echoing through the darkness catching Lars off-guard, and his mind listened more intently to determine direction. Quickly following the ominous blurt was the familiar sound of a leathery flapping noise. Lars' mind raced back to the encounter with the Berbalangs. He knew this sound he thought to himself as he heard the sound once again. Lars licked his lip as the sweat began to trickle down his forehead. He peered into the forest ahead as he slowly crept forward, cautiously easing the branches aside to allow for himself to adequately view what lay ahead of him. The odor of blood rang out across his senses as he pulled the thistled branch aside to behold the open sky above a glade where the moonlight bathed the ground. At once, he drew a deep breath as he gripped his axe tighter in his hand, and his eyes fell upon the two Berbalang feasting on the corpse of the horse.
Remembering the toilsome encounter of the last four Berbalangs, Lars held his breath as the oblivious demons bent over ruptured carcass of the horse. The grotesque delight at which the beasts tore strips of meat from the fallen creature was as Hellish as any nightmare of unfortuante climax. Lars' heart raced as the the toothy maws of demon chomped on the strands of sinew, clicking and screeching to one another in delight and satiation like demonic children around the campfire. For a moment, Lars saw these unholy creatures as they were: hunters trying to survive in a world that gave them little regard. But Lars was quick to remember his friend and the tales of the old man in the valley just two days before. He knew these things were evil despite their child-like semblance at this moment. Lars gritted his teeth and lowered his eyebrows. He slowly changed hands with his axe as he reached behind him to unsheath his smaller hand-axe. Raising the smaller axe into the air slowly, Lars repositioned his stance to account for the impending toss. And with one great motion of his arm, the hand-axe was sent forth through the air, whistling as its blade turned over and over through the air. As the singing blade of the axe rang out, the two beasts immediately snapped their heads around to face their attacked, strips of bloody sinew and flesh dangling from their maws and their glowing eyes pulsing with light. At that moment, the axe had met its mark as the blade came around to face its target, and buried itself through the skull of on the Berbalang. Blood splashed from the carcass of the dead horse as the fallen Berbalang's corpse struck the demonic dinner table. This time, the remaining Berbalang screeched a horrible screech of surprise and vaulted its body into the air as its wings flapped furiously towards the great orb in the sky bathing them both with light. Lars peered into the sky at the beast that stopped its ascent, hovering there as it waited for Lars to make his next move. Lars, more confident now that the numbers were more even, changed his axe to the other hand again and stepped out into the glade. Lars grasped the long handle of the axe with both hands across his body, and stared the beast in the eyes.
"Allright, ya' bastard! Ya' wanted to see the devil who slew yer' friend? Well, tonight, you get your wish!" Lars yelled at the Berbalang. The Berbalang, now apparently much larger than the other Berbalangs he had encountered, was highlighted by the moon behind it. Lars, furious with battle rage, still managed to shudder once again having now been able to see the beast in all its glory. This one was a great deal bigger, and noticeably so, and the familiar, albeit faint, stroke of fear ran through his body. But Lars stood his ground. He had the blood of dwarves in his veins. He was of the stock of soldiers and warriors. He had seen greater foe and more enemies than this lowly creature of foul domain. He would not be deterred. The beast hovered in the air for a moment, and as its huge wings spread apart before its dive, the moon disappeared behind it along with much of its light. Lars' eyes grew wide in anticipation as the beast tipped its head down, and its body fell like an arrow on a rope at Lars. The light from its eyes streamed behind the beast's head as it tore through the air, its two front massive claws glistening and outstretched to grasp its enemy. Lars shifted his stance, and prepared for a the mightiest of swings, but then he got an idea. As the gigantic Berbalang furiously approached Lars' position on the ground, Lars relaxed his stance. He let down his guard, striking his broad axe's handle into the ground and stopped down behind it completely covered by the wide breadth if its double-bladed span. Lars braced himself for the impact and gritted his teeth in anticipation of the force. He closed his eyes tight as the monstrous beast, unable to slow its dive in time, plowed into the wide, flat mithril side of Lars' axe with an immense metallic ringing.
CLANG!
The force of the beast behind the wide blades of the axe sent Lars tumbling backwards with the beast rolling about him. Taking the brunt of the blunt force, the massive Berbalang came to a stop, its arms outstretched to its sides and dazed from the bewildering trauma of the crash. Having prepared for the crash, Lars eventually came to a stop as well a few feet from the beast as the demon's head wobbled loosely on its shoulders from the impact. Quickly, Lars regained his bearings, and gripping his axe in his hands tightly, rolled over to stare the beast through the crotch straight to the bottom of its jaw. It was then that Lars grinned, a trickle of blood escaping his brow where the other side of his axe had struck him, too. Lars drew in a large breath of air as he hoisted himself to one knee, raising the axe above his head. "Say hello to your friends for me! Tell 'em Lars of Altendon sent ya', ya bastard! " Lars said, and the with one powerful strike through the air, Lars buried the axe through the chest of the beast, splitting the demon into two parts with a crack and a spray of green blood.
Lars, certain that no beast dare to intrude upon this scene, fell backwards against the cool grass of the glade and breathed hard for a moment. After a moment, Lars stood back up, placed his foot on the dead beast's corpse and pulled his axe free of the dead Berbalang's body. The crunch of bone echoed through the glade as the axe broke free of the beast's spinal column, and Lars curled his lip and spit into the gaping chest cavity of the dead creature. Feeling rather spry, Lars hoisted his axe over his shoulder and strutted back into the forest from whence he came, taking a moment to spy a few more of the mice from before once again scurrying off to their burrows. "Told you so, ya' lil' vermin!" he said as he wiped the green goo from his upper lip with his sleeve and sniffed accordingly. "Ok, one more to go. We can do this." he said to himself, reassuring himself that the worst of his nightly adventure had come.
Lars, more confident than before, trodded through the forest with less care at this point. Eventually reaching the point of the trail where the three horses split in different directions, Lars' glanced quickly up toward the campfire at the open of the ruined monastery. All looked well to this point. He then gazed at the sky to find the moon had once again began to descend from its zenith in the center of the heavens. Accordingly, Lars took a deep breath and began to walk down the mountain again to the southern portion of the valley from where they entered just a couple of days before. After roughly on hundred meters, the tracks of the scared horse crossed paths with the tracks that he and Dalmar made as they ascended towards the ruins at the peak. As expected, Lars turned to follow these conglomeration of horse hooves of varying direction, and eventually found himself staring across the valley in the direction of the farmstead at the head of the wide valley. Lars paused at the scene as the beauty of the open valley struck him in the moonlight. The green grass of the wide topological trough took upon a soothing blue-green-gray sort of color as the night's light covered everything in sight. Lars took a moment as he pulled his heavy axe off his shoulder and buried its blade into the ground, and promptly sat down besode it at the edge of the tree. Lars sighed. He looked back in the direction of the farmstead towards the wide body of water majestically sitting in the center of the valley. There at the edge of the water, on the same side as the farmstead in the distance, was the horse. Lars chuckled as he rested for a moment, thinking about the long walk across the valley on foot. By the time he got the horse and got back to the top of the mountain, the first birds of the early morning would be chirping. Lars chuckled again, thinking to himself, "Well, we dwarves were never known for our good luck...." Musing at the irony of an easy find of the horse, Lars stood up again, brushing the bits of grass and seed from his leggings. He grabbed his axe, and hoisted it over his shoulder and began the trek across the valley.
In higher spirits and rested, Lars walked with a fairly brisk pace, keeping his eyes on the distance ahead and behind him. He'd had enough confrontation for one night, and the easiness of retrieving the horse at the edge of the lake was a welcomed sight in that respect. Indeed, he was amazed that he was able to locate the two horses after two days, but Lars knew it was far more important to tend to Dalmar. Perhaps he could have avoided the first horse's encounter with the Berbalangs. Perhaps not. Who could tell? Lars quickly dismissed this line of thought. It did concern him that the people of farmstead did nothing to capture the second horse, however. Lars pondered on this for several minutes. Maybe they hadn't seen it. "No, that's ridiculous" Lars thought. Maybe they were waiting to see if you'd come back. "Possibly" Lars answered himself in his mind's voice. Maybe this isn't the same horse. "That, too, is possible I suppose" Lars thought. Lars remembered the old man's attempt to charm he and Dalmar. "Maybe it's a trap" Lars thought as he paused and stared at the farmstead from a distance. "Maybe it is...." Lars said aloud to himself this time. Lars turned to the opposite side of the lake and began walking in a different direction as he eventually met the edge of the large body of water. Rounding the circumference of the lake after a short while, he then approached the horse from the opposite side of the farmstead. His eyes surveyed the horse as it eventually saw its master. Lars recognized the saddle. He recognized his gear. He recognized the horse pattern as it trotted up to him. "Well, there aren't many horses of this breed around here, I suppose...." he said to himself, noting that his horse wasn't fit for men. Patting down his steed, Lars mounted his horse and rode back into the valley. As the wind picked up with the onset of the new day, Lars knew his adventures for the night were over, and he was glad. He reached down into his saddlebag, pulled out the pipe that he knew well and the bundle of tobacco. Looking at the familiar, comforting items, he smiled and packed the bell of his pipe. Finally, signaling the commitment to the night's end, he lit the pipe as the sweet smoke crossed the surface of his tongue with its sweetness, and he drew it in. Holding it there for a moment, he then blew it out slowly with metaphorical resolution.
"Yeah, that's the stuff. Right there." Lars said.
Invino Veritas
5/27/12
EOF
Sunday, May 27, 2012
Saturday, May 5, 2012
The Story of Dalmar: Between Life and Death
The moon had risen by the time the Lars and Dalmar had garnered enough stray bits of wood and timber to begin the evening's fire. Dalmar bent down on the rocky, flat precipice in the shadows of the crumbling spire and piled bits of thin wood atop a dry patch of moss. With a few quick strikes of flint, the moss began to glow and soon smoke. Dalmar bent down close to the embers as Lars watched in anticipation, his companion blowing softly into the dead limbs until a flame erupted softly illuminating the immediate area. Dalmar sat up straight and smiled at his handiwork, turning to Lars' rosy face in the growing firelight. "Aye, now, let's see what we can find." Lars said finally as he turned his attention to the other side of the open area of crumbling stone where the straggling vines and forest reached into the scene from above.
Before them stood the weathered mountain covered with a thin layer of green and black earth. Dalmar peered upwards at the strange column of stone with the jagged top where the chunks of stones about his person once sat majestically to the world. Lars had crossed to the remains of the large stone door, broken and now made more of rubble than a defined structure, and studied the stony edges of the opening. The opening in the mountain bore the belly of the forgotten monastery, Monmüth, to the night's air. Dalmar stood, pulling a burning limb from the now-roaring fire and crossed to the opposite side of the stony clearing and peered down into the forest below at the bottom the south slope. The light of the flame flickered upon the eerie branches of the trees, casting strange shadows into the undergrowth several meters below him. Then, as the light of the makeshift torch moved back and forth with the mild breeze, Dalmar's eyes caught the glint of a piece of metal several steps below. Dalmar hiked his leg over the rising stone that marked the edge of the landing and pulled his other leg over as his body shifted to support itself on the bare ground below the crumbling Monmüth's outcropping. "Lars, over here." Dalmar called to his friend. Lars turned his attention away from the opening into the ruins, crossed the area, and rested his hands on the remains of the wall as he peered down at Dalmar as he skirted the mountainside.
"Careful, Dalmar...." Lars rang down the slope to his friend. "It's a long way back to Altendon." Dalmar cautiously moved his feet over the soft ground until he stood above the now-apparent forgotten sword stuck into the ground half way up its rusted blade.
"It's a sword!" Dalmar hollered back up to his friend as he scanned the immediate area. But as Dalmar bent down and grasped the hilt, Lars voice quickly snapped back at him.
"Wait, Dalmar! Don't pull it out. Let me look at it first!" Lars quickly hopped onto the remains of the wall, and rolled his body to the other side. Within moments, Lars was standing in front of Dalmar staring at the old blade buried in the earth at their feet. "If there be goblins in these parts, this could be a trap. They are fond of such things." Lars lowered himself to his knees and cleared the ground of debris around the hilt that stood upright in the torchlight. Indeed, there was more to be seen as Lars' hands quickly uncovered the blackened bones of what seemed reasonable to be the previous owner of this unimpressive blade. But no body was uncovered as Dalmar's eyes widened with the find.
"What is it?" Dalmar queried.
"I would imagine it's the remains of the one who found the goblins, and this is his sword. Check the rest of the area and see if you can find the rest of his body." Lars said knowing that the keen dwarf's eyes were a perfect match for the natural darkness of night's blanketing shadow. Dalmar turned and began walking in a circle around the sword, but no bodies matching the lone bundle of bones was to be found. Dalmar widened his perimeter, nearing the edges of the trees where the shadows encroached upon the scene. Meanhwhile, the dwarf poked his fingers through the loose earth around the sword, feeling around the strange miniature monument to struggle. What was this sword doing alone here buried in the mountainside? It made no sense Lars thought to himself. There was no signs of struggle, no apparent scene of battle of any kind. Lars had cleared away several inches of dirt and stone when his hand finally struck something foreign and smooth to the touch. "Dalmar..." Lars said. "You can stop looking now. I've found what we were looking for." Dalmar turned and walked to his friend, bathing them both in the warm glow of the torchlight once again. Lars' arm was buried in a mound of earth as he pulled it free of the ground that swallowed it. Dirt sprayed into the air as Lars' hand broke free of the ground, and clutched in his hand was the jawbone of a man.
"There's more of him under there, too." Lars said. Dalmar sighed as he looked back up to the stone wall at the front of the mountain monastery, his eyes running through the sky to the position of the moon.
"Think there's any more of them?" Dalmar asked. There was a strange pause in both of them as Lars thought to himself.
"Maybe. Leave the sword here. Let's get back to the top first. My belly is grumbling, and this fella' isn't going anywhere anytime soon." Lars said smartly as he rose to his feet and shook the dirt from his hands. Dalmar nodded as he turned back up the slope which seemed a bit steeper as the two adventurers began to trudge against the mountainsides loose floor. Dalmar didn't remember the journey down the mountain's slope being so arduous as the journey back up to the stone clearing at the top. Dalmar soon found himself on his knees as he grasped the ground with his hands like a monkey, climbing the slope with all four of his limbs while Lars walked upright as if he was born to do climb mountains.
"Why isn't this more difficult for you than it is for me?" Dalmar mused as he wiped the dirt from his face, and grinned a devilish grin at his friend. Lars smirked at Dalmar.
"Once a dwarf, always a dwarf." Lars said. "We're built low and strong, Dalmar. This is our sort of land, sir. Not your's." Lars chuckled to himself, marking Dalmar's own folly and his lack of makeup to match his friend's stature. Just at that moment, a pebble struck Dalmar in the forehead from above. Lars, seeing this, laughed aloud as another stone trickled down from above glancing off of Dalmar's shoulder. Then, at once, as the two warriors realized at the same time from where the rubble had come, their eyes grew wide in unison as they both turned to gaze above them. An eerie screeching of claws and the flapping of the beast's leathery wings signaled the folly of the two as it peered over the wall above, perched like a strange gargoyle picking out its prey from above. The creature's deathly pale blue eyes stared blankly at the potential meals as it arched its gaunt, ridged back and let out terrible screech piercing the spines and minds of both Dalmar and Lars causing them to freeze in their tracks.
"Berbalang!" Lars cried and his drew his axe and braced himself for the beast's advance. Dalmar sat up on his knees and drew his two swords, pausing for the beast's inevitable lunge. But the beast did not lunge after its meal, but instead crawled upon the top of the crumbling wall, it's horrific claws scraping the softer stone and sending pieces of rock tumbling down towards the mountain's side. The berbalang screeched another terrible screech that could be heard echoing into the halls of Monmüth above. The beast turned its attention to Lars and Dalmar now. Its toothy maw seemed to grin and evil grin as it menacingly flapped its leathery wings about it, as another appeared beside it. The two beasts emitted a series of clicks and yips to one another in arcane communication as a third, and finally a fourth, chimed in and landed beside the other two. Then, at once, the four boney figures of claw and wing each turned their eight pairs of glowing eyes towards the two watching the demons plan their attack, and they leaped into the air over the wall. The night sky, filled now with the frightening sounds of flapping demons gave no comfort as Lars and Dalmar furiously tried to reach the stone landing above them. From somewhere in the distance, the ghastly sounds of frightened and terrorized horses were followed by a fading noise of hooves signaling the scattering of their mounts by the berbalangs. In the back of the minds of the two warriors, this was a bad sign.
The beasts hung in the air in front of the moon above the two struggling mountain climbers as two of the beasts dove from above, their claws outstretched to latch on to their prey. Swinging wildly into the air, the sound of Lars' mighty battle axe rang out as it struck bone and the beast's claw flew down the side of the slope. The injured predator screeched and hissed as it rose back up into the air to plan its next attack. Dalmar rolled to his left as his attacker swooped down upon him, narrowly missing Dalmar with its slashes. Now on his back, Dalmar stared the belly of the beast in its protruding navel and thrust his blade through the overly apparent ribcage causing the beast to flail about upon Dalmar's blade. With lightning speed, the beast's razor-like claws furiously swiped at the man, catching Dalmar across the shoulder as blood spilled onto his person. Another claw quickly dug into the meat of his thigh, and he felt the beast's claws scrape the bone of his leg. Dalmar emitted a cry of pain as he raised his blade with a furious twist that carried the evil creature over his head. Dalmar thrust the blade's tip into the ground above his head, pinning the dying beast's wildly shaking body to the ground with its limbs in the air. Lars, his head spinning at the sounds of pain from his friend, ran over to Dalmar. With a mighty strike of his axe, Lars cleaved the berbalang in two, silencing it forever as the glow disappeared from its socket all at once.
The blood poured from Dalmar's badly damaged leg and shoulder, the individual slices of each demonic claw visible through the leather of his garb. Lars turned to the attacker again as the other two joined the remaining berbalangs in a mass of flapping wings and claws about Lars and the injured Dalmar. Bearing his wide blade towards the three-clawed beast, Lars swiped at the demon backing it's advance away from his bleeding friend. Dalmar, still conscious, raised his other blade into the air, swinging it at the other two creatures hovering above his head. The three nimble messengers of death flapped their wings with a relaxed sort of motion as they looked at each other, their eyes pulsing with strange energies as they screeched and hissed together above the heads of Lars and Dalmar. Dalmar began to feel light-headed as his vision became blurry. The blood poured from his body like rivers of red water, emptying into a lake beside his body. His sword bearing arm fell limp, and began to tingle. Lars, following the flight of his attacker as it joined the other two, spied his friend's degradation, and kicked Dalmar lightly and yelled at him.
"Dalmar! You've got to wake up!You've got to fight, man!" Lar's screamed. Lars kicked his limp friend again as the three-clawed beast lunged at him. Once again, Lars met the creature's attack. But as Lars fought off his own attacker, the other two berbalang swooped down upon Dalmar, grasping his body in their terrible claws and raising him into the air as they tore him away from the clutches of his protector. Together, the demons of the night rose into the air dropping Dalmar's body dripping with red essence of his body onto the landing above with a thud. Dalmar's emitted another cry as his body hit the hard surface before the ancient monastery Monmüth. The jar from the meter fall knocked Dalmar's blade free from his hand finally as it bounced momentarily on the stone letting out a metallic ring and fell silent. Dalmar's consciousness fading quickly, a piercing screech rang out from over the wall at the end of his feet, and he heard the sounds of Lars running up the side of the mountain after him. Dalmar managed to smile slightly as the mass of berbalangs above him turned in time to notice Lars emerging victorious, covered in the green blood of the other beast. Then, Dalmar shut his eyes, and he felt calm. He relaxed amid the strange jumble of sound as his hearing began to lose its ability to discern between one sound and another. It was all just a rumble. His mind began to wander as suddenly there was an apparent flash of light from an unknown source, the light of the burst breeching his eyelids and the remaining strands of his consciousness as it wandered aimlessly, grasping onto anything and everything.
And then, everything disappeared again.
Like a swimmer emerging from the bottom of a great torrent, Dalmar's mind awoke. In a single voice, his own, a phrase echoed in what appeared to be a great open space of nothingness with pinholes of light twinkling like stars in the heavens before him. Each pinhole was distinct and seemed to be too far in the distance to reach. A soft, blue glow emanated from all around him as he lay there on the cool, sandy-colored surface of the stone floor with no edges. His eyes fluttered with disbelief as they opened to behold all of this, and a familiar face: the goddess. She smiled at him, no longer bearing the fantastic armor of a warrior-goddess, a divine herald of strength and battle. But she wore the robes of a caretaker this time as his eyes fell upon her. Her soft, warm face gazed down upon him as he felt himself smile, and his eyes ran down the repeating blue pattern at the hem of her priestly garb. As she gazed into his eyes, her ruby red lips formed a smile as she drew in a breath before a spoken word.
"Dalmar..." her soft voice echoed through his mind. "Dalmar, wake up. You aren't finished." The calm voice flowed over his body as it held him in its hand, rocking it slightly as a mother might a child in its crib. "Dalmar...?" She said again. "Wake up. Lars needs you." This time the voice persisted as it resonated in his soul and in his mind as it knocked its consciousness loose like a rock frozen in the side of a cliff. The blue light began to rapidly fade and the vision of the goddess fell into the blackness of the universe. One by one, each pinpoint of light faded along with the disappearing dream, but the voice persisted in his head. Dalmar couldn't feel his body, and startled to this realization, he tried to shake himself awake. He tried to rise from the fading of the light. He struggled and he could, at once, feel his heart beating within its chest and then his arms and shoulders began to become apparent as his face began to feel once again. Dalmar gritted his teeth as he squirmed in his mind, and finally, his eyelids responded and his breath erupted like a volcano from his lungs. The light of the moon struck him in his face as the world came into view again, for what seemed like the first time. Lars, hunkered down over him with a bowl smiled, and turned his head to a man standing behind him.
"Well, it appears as if Ar-Simba-El has smiled upon this one, after all." said the bald-headed priest behind Lars. "But let's not start hugging each other just yet. This man needs some rest. And those marks are going to hurt like the air of Acheron for a while until they fully heal." The cleric smiled. Like clockwork, Dalmar's vision returned to full as he sat up and supported his torso with his arm behind him. His belly, awoke with fury as he swallowed finding his throat painfully dry, and he coughed. Lars handed Dalmar the bowl of broth as Dalmar emptied the tiny vessel and sighed with relief. Dalmar looked at his leg which was thoroughly wrapped and stained red with blood as was his shoulder and torso. He looked around, finding himself beside the crude fire that he, himself, had started and in the company of not two, but three men. His head looked around, taking in his environment, and finding another man like the priest resting on the other side of the fire.
"Who are you? What happened?" Dalmar said weakly.
"My name is Gwydion of the Zyn-Lar. That man over there is Averis. He, too, is of the Zyn-Lar. We've been traveling through these areas doing mostly missionary work when we saw..." Gwydion looked at Lars for a moment, and changed the direction of his speech. "...when we came across the berbalangs hovering about your heads. At that moment, our path had been chosen for us it would appear." Gwydion smiled at Averis and Lars, his calm demeanor setting the tone for the entire party.
"I certainly thank you for your assistance, but what happened to the berbalangs?" Dalmar asked.
"Let's just say, they saw the light and the error of their way." Gwydion said as he smiled warmly. Dalmar laid down again, trying to remember the moments after he lost consciousness and the ones before he regained it. Had he actually been visited by the goddess? Did he die? These thoughts troubled Dalmar, and until he was able to sort things out he wouldn't mention them to Lars or any of these men of Zyn-Lar. But even that name, that Zyn-Lar, seemed to get caught in his mind. Where had he heard that before? Was it something that the goddess had said? These questions persevered.
"And the horses? I heard them run off..." Dalmar asked.
"Gone, but we'll find 'em, lad." Lars said. "In the meantime, we need to get you back on your feet."
"How long was I out?" Dalmar inquired. An awkward pause came over everyone, and it unsettled Dalmar.
"It's been a couple of days, Dalmar" Lars said begrudgingly.
"Well, no wonder I'm starving" Dalmar said lightly and he grinned. "But that means...that means we're going to be late getting back if we don't leave pretty soon, Lars." Dalmar sat up again and looked at Lars.
"Aye, and so we will. Back to Altendon t'morrow then. But you rest for tonight. I'll try to find our horses." Lars stood as he sighed, knowing that it could be a while before he found just one of the horses. He also knew that Dalmar was right - they had to get back to Altendon before Dorian decides to charge in after them. Granted, they had not run into anymore of the Crimson Reign in these parts, but they had not really had an adequate amount of time to pursue the possibilities in Gr'Valdth either. Once more, Lars wasn't sure if Dorian wold be patient enough to let he and Dalmar search Gr'Valdth for signs of Sarat's men much less Dalmar's friend,t he elf Lanthis. Lars bade each of the men a good night as he walked down the side of the mountain where he and Dalmar had entered just two days before. He wasn't sure if he'd actually find any horses, but he had to try. His dwarven vision easily made sense of the dark forest, but even he knew that after two days, there really was no telling if they were even alive at all.
Invino Veritas
5/5/12
EOF
Before them stood the weathered mountain covered with a thin layer of green and black earth. Dalmar peered upwards at the strange column of stone with the jagged top where the chunks of stones about his person once sat majestically to the world. Lars had crossed to the remains of the large stone door, broken and now made more of rubble than a defined structure, and studied the stony edges of the opening. The opening in the mountain bore the belly of the forgotten monastery, Monmüth, to the night's air. Dalmar stood, pulling a burning limb from the now-roaring fire and crossed to the opposite side of the stony clearing and peered down into the forest below at the bottom the south slope. The light of the flame flickered upon the eerie branches of the trees, casting strange shadows into the undergrowth several meters below him. Then, as the light of the makeshift torch moved back and forth with the mild breeze, Dalmar's eyes caught the glint of a piece of metal several steps below. Dalmar hiked his leg over the rising stone that marked the edge of the landing and pulled his other leg over as his body shifted to support itself on the bare ground below the crumbling Monmüth's outcropping. "Lars, over here." Dalmar called to his friend. Lars turned his attention away from the opening into the ruins, crossed the area, and rested his hands on the remains of the wall as he peered down at Dalmar as he skirted the mountainside.
"Careful, Dalmar...." Lars rang down the slope to his friend. "It's a long way back to Altendon." Dalmar cautiously moved his feet over the soft ground until he stood above the now-apparent forgotten sword stuck into the ground half way up its rusted blade.
"It's a sword!" Dalmar hollered back up to his friend as he scanned the immediate area. But as Dalmar bent down and grasped the hilt, Lars voice quickly snapped back at him.
"Wait, Dalmar! Don't pull it out. Let me look at it first!" Lars quickly hopped onto the remains of the wall, and rolled his body to the other side. Within moments, Lars was standing in front of Dalmar staring at the old blade buried in the earth at their feet. "If there be goblins in these parts, this could be a trap. They are fond of such things." Lars lowered himself to his knees and cleared the ground of debris around the hilt that stood upright in the torchlight. Indeed, there was more to be seen as Lars' hands quickly uncovered the blackened bones of what seemed reasonable to be the previous owner of this unimpressive blade. But no body was uncovered as Dalmar's eyes widened with the find.
"What is it?" Dalmar queried.
"I would imagine it's the remains of the one who found the goblins, and this is his sword. Check the rest of the area and see if you can find the rest of his body." Lars said knowing that the keen dwarf's eyes were a perfect match for the natural darkness of night's blanketing shadow. Dalmar turned and began walking in a circle around the sword, but no bodies matching the lone bundle of bones was to be found. Dalmar widened his perimeter, nearing the edges of the trees where the shadows encroached upon the scene. Meanhwhile, the dwarf poked his fingers through the loose earth around the sword, feeling around the strange miniature monument to struggle. What was this sword doing alone here buried in the mountainside? It made no sense Lars thought to himself. There was no signs of struggle, no apparent scene of battle of any kind. Lars had cleared away several inches of dirt and stone when his hand finally struck something foreign and smooth to the touch. "Dalmar..." Lars said. "You can stop looking now. I've found what we were looking for." Dalmar turned and walked to his friend, bathing them both in the warm glow of the torchlight once again. Lars' arm was buried in a mound of earth as he pulled it free of the ground that swallowed it. Dirt sprayed into the air as Lars' hand broke free of the ground, and clutched in his hand was the jawbone of a man.
"There's more of him under there, too." Lars said. Dalmar sighed as he looked back up to the stone wall at the front of the mountain monastery, his eyes running through the sky to the position of the moon.
"Think there's any more of them?" Dalmar asked. There was a strange pause in both of them as Lars thought to himself.
"Maybe. Leave the sword here. Let's get back to the top first. My belly is grumbling, and this fella' isn't going anywhere anytime soon." Lars said smartly as he rose to his feet and shook the dirt from his hands. Dalmar nodded as he turned back up the slope which seemed a bit steeper as the two adventurers began to trudge against the mountainsides loose floor. Dalmar didn't remember the journey down the mountain's slope being so arduous as the journey back up to the stone clearing at the top. Dalmar soon found himself on his knees as he grasped the ground with his hands like a monkey, climbing the slope with all four of his limbs while Lars walked upright as if he was born to do climb mountains.
"Why isn't this more difficult for you than it is for me?" Dalmar mused as he wiped the dirt from his face, and grinned a devilish grin at his friend. Lars smirked at Dalmar.
"Once a dwarf, always a dwarf." Lars said. "We're built low and strong, Dalmar. This is our sort of land, sir. Not your's." Lars chuckled to himself, marking Dalmar's own folly and his lack of makeup to match his friend's stature. Just at that moment, a pebble struck Dalmar in the forehead from above. Lars, seeing this, laughed aloud as another stone trickled down from above glancing off of Dalmar's shoulder. Then, at once, as the two warriors realized at the same time from where the rubble had come, their eyes grew wide in unison as they both turned to gaze above them. An eerie screeching of claws and the flapping of the beast's leathery wings signaled the folly of the two as it peered over the wall above, perched like a strange gargoyle picking out its prey from above. The creature's deathly pale blue eyes stared blankly at the potential meals as it arched its gaunt, ridged back and let out terrible screech piercing the spines and minds of both Dalmar and Lars causing them to freeze in their tracks.
"Berbalang!" Lars cried and his drew his axe and braced himself for the beast's advance. Dalmar sat up on his knees and drew his two swords, pausing for the beast's inevitable lunge. But the beast did not lunge after its meal, but instead crawled upon the top of the crumbling wall, it's horrific claws scraping the softer stone and sending pieces of rock tumbling down towards the mountain's side. The berbalang screeched another terrible screech that could be heard echoing into the halls of Monmüth above. The beast turned its attention to Lars and Dalmar now. Its toothy maw seemed to grin and evil grin as it menacingly flapped its leathery wings about it, as another appeared beside it. The two beasts emitted a series of clicks and yips to one another in arcane communication as a third, and finally a fourth, chimed in and landed beside the other two. Then, at once, the four boney figures of claw and wing each turned their eight pairs of glowing eyes towards the two watching the demons plan their attack, and they leaped into the air over the wall. The night sky, filled now with the frightening sounds of flapping demons gave no comfort as Lars and Dalmar furiously tried to reach the stone landing above them. From somewhere in the distance, the ghastly sounds of frightened and terrorized horses were followed by a fading noise of hooves signaling the scattering of their mounts by the berbalangs. In the back of the minds of the two warriors, this was a bad sign.
The beasts hung in the air in front of the moon above the two struggling mountain climbers as two of the beasts dove from above, their claws outstretched to latch on to their prey. Swinging wildly into the air, the sound of Lars' mighty battle axe rang out as it struck bone and the beast's claw flew down the side of the slope. The injured predator screeched and hissed as it rose back up into the air to plan its next attack. Dalmar rolled to his left as his attacker swooped down upon him, narrowly missing Dalmar with its slashes. Now on his back, Dalmar stared the belly of the beast in its protruding navel and thrust his blade through the overly apparent ribcage causing the beast to flail about upon Dalmar's blade. With lightning speed, the beast's razor-like claws furiously swiped at the man, catching Dalmar across the shoulder as blood spilled onto his person. Another claw quickly dug into the meat of his thigh, and he felt the beast's claws scrape the bone of his leg. Dalmar emitted a cry of pain as he raised his blade with a furious twist that carried the evil creature over his head. Dalmar thrust the blade's tip into the ground above his head, pinning the dying beast's wildly shaking body to the ground with its limbs in the air. Lars, his head spinning at the sounds of pain from his friend, ran over to Dalmar. With a mighty strike of his axe, Lars cleaved the berbalang in two, silencing it forever as the glow disappeared from its socket all at once.
The blood poured from Dalmar's badly damaged leg and shoulder, the individual slices of each demonic claw visible through the leather of his garb. Lars turned to the attacker again as the other two joined the remaining berbalangs in a mass of flapping wings and claws about Lars and the injured Dalmar. Bearing his wide blade towards the three-clawed beast, Lars swiped at the demon backing it's advance away from his bleeding friend. Dalmar, still conscious, raised his other blade into the air, swinging it at the other two creatures hovering above his head. The three nimble messengers of death flapped their wings with a relaxed sort of motion as they looked at each other, their eyes pulsing with strange energies as they screeched and hissed together above the heads of Lars and Dalmar. Dalmar began to feel light-headed as his vision became blurry. The blood poured from his body like rivers of red water, emptying into a lake beside his body. His sword bearing arm fell limp, and began to tingle. Lars, following the flight of his attacker as it joined the other two, spied his friend's degradation, and kicked Dalmar lightly and yelled at him.
"Dalmar! You've got to wake up!You've got to fight, man!" Lar's screamed. Lars kicked his limp friend again as the three-clawed beast lunged at him. Once again, Lars met the creature's attack. But as Lars fought off his own attacker, the other two berbalang swooped down upon Dalmar, grasping his body in their terrible claws and raising him into the air as they tore him away from the clutches of his protector. Together, the demons of the night rose into the air dropping Dalmar's body dripping with red essence of his body onto the landing above with a thud. Dalmar's emitted another cry as his body hit the hard surface before the ancient monastery Monmüth. The jar from the meter fall knocked Dalmar's blade free from his hand finally as it bounced momentarily on the stone letting out a metallic ring and fell silent. Dalmar's consciousness fading quickly, a piercing screech rang out from over the wall at the end of his feet, and he heard the sounds of Lars running up the side of the mountain after him. Dalmar managed to smile slightly as the mass of berbalangs above him turned in time to notice Lars emerging victorious, covered in the green blood of the other beast. Then, Dalmar shut his eyes, and he felt calm. He relaxed amid the strange jumble of sound as his hearing began to lose its ability to discern between one sound and another. It was all just a rumble. His mind began to wander as suddenly there was an apparent flash of light from an unknown source, the light of the burst breeching his eyelids and the remaining strands of his consciousness as it wandered aimlessly, grasping onto anything and everything.
And then, everything disappeared again.
Like a swimmer emerging from the bottom of a great torrent, Dalmar's mind awoke. In a single voice, his own, a phrase echoed in what appeared to be a great open space of nothingness with pinholes of light twinkling like stars in the heavens before him. Each pinhole was distinct and seemed to be too far in the distance to reach. A soft, blue glow emanated from all around him as he lay there on the cool, sandy-colored surface of the stone floor with no edges. His eyes fluttered with disbelief as they opened to behold all of this, and a familiar face: the goddess. She smiled at him, no longer bearing the fantastic armor of a warrior-goddess, a divine herald of strength and battle. But she wore the robes of a caretaker this time as his eyes fell upon her. Her soft, warm face gazed down upon him as he felt himself smile, and his eyes ran down the repeating blue pattern at the hem of her priestly garb. As she gazed into his eyes, her ruby red lips formed a smile as she drew in a breath before a spoken word.
"Dalmar..." her soft voice echoed through his mind. "Dalmar, wake up. You aren't finished." The calm voice flowed over his body as it held him in its hand, rocking it slightly as a mother might a child in its crib. "Dalmar...?" She said again. "Wake up. Lars needs you." This time the voice persisted as it resonated in his soul and in his mind as it knocked its consciousness loose like a rock frozen in the side of a cliff. The blue light began to rapidly fade and the vision of the goddess fell into the blackness of the universe. One by one, each pinpoint of light faded along with the disappearing dream, but the voice persisted in his head. Dalmar couldn't feel his body, and startled to this realization, he tried to shake himself awake. He tried to rise from the fading of the light. He struggled and he could, at once, feel his heart beating within its chest and then his arms and shoulders began to become apparent as his face began to feel once again. Dalmar gritted his teeth as he squirmed in his mind, and finally, his eyelids responded and his breath erupted like a volcano from his lungs. The light of the moon struck him in his face as the world came into view again, for what seemed like the first time. Lars, hunkered down over him with a bowl smiled, and turned his head to a man standing behind him.
"Well, it appears as if Ar-Simba-El has smiled upon this one, after all." said the bald-headed priest behind Lars. "But let's not start hugging each other just yet. This man needs some rest. And those marks are going to hurt like the air of Acheron for a while until they fully heal." The cleric smiled. Like clockwork, Dalmar's vision returned to full as he sat up and supported his torso with his arm behind him. His belly, awoke with fury as he swallowed finding his throat painfully dry, and he coughed. Lars handed Dalmar the bowl of broth as Dalmar emptied the tiny vessel and sighed with relief. Dalmar looked at his leg which was thoroughly wrapped and stained red with blood as was his shoulder and torso. He looked around, finding himself beside the crude fire that he, himself, had started and in the company of not two, but three men. His head looked around, taking in his environment, and finding another man like the priest resting on the other side of the fire.
"Who are you? What happened?" Dalmar said weakly.
"My name is Gwydion of the Zyn-Lar. That man over there is Averis. He, too, is of the Zyn-Lar. We've been traveling through these areas doing mostly missionary work when we saw..." Gwydion looked at Lars for a moment, and changed the direction of his speech. "...when we came across the berbalangs hovering about your heads. At that moment, our path had been chosen for us it would appear." Gwydion smiled at Averis and Lars, his calm demeanor setting the tone for the entire party.
"I certainly thank you for your assistance, but what happened to the berbalangs?" Dalmar asked.
"Let's just say, they saw the light and the error of their way." Gwydion said as he smiled warmly. Dalmar laid down again, trying to remember the moments after he lost consciousness and the ones before he regained it. Had he actually been visited by the goddess? Did he die? These thoughts troubled Dalmar, and until he was able to sort things out he wouldn't mention them to Lars or any of these men of Zyn-Lar. But even that name, that Zyn-Lar, seemed to get caught in his mind. Where had he heard that before? Was it something that the goddess had said? These questions persevered.
"And the horses? I heard them run off..." Dalmar asked.
"Gone, but we'll find 'em, lad." Lars said. "In the meantime, we need to get you back on your feet."
"How long was I out?" Dalmar inquired. An awkward pause came over everyone, and it unsettled Dalmar.
"It's been a couple of days, Dalmar" Lars said begrudgingly.
"Well, no wonder I'm starving" Dalmar said lightly and he grinned. "But that means...that means we're going to be late getting back if we don't leave pretty soon, Lars." Dalmar sat up again and looked at Lars.
"Aye, and so we will. Back to Altendon t'morrow then. But you rest for tonight. I'll try to find our horses." Lars stood as he sighed, knowing that it could be a while before he found just one of the horses. He also knew that Dalmar was right - they had to get back to Altendon before Dorian decides to charge in after them. Granted, they had not run into anymore of the Crimson Reign in these parts, but they had not really had an adequate amount of time to pursue the possibilities in Gr'Valdth either. Once more, Lars wasn't sure if Dorian wold be patient enough to let he and Dalmar search Gr'Valdth for signs of Sarat's men much less Dalmar's friend,t he elf Lanthis. Lars bade each of the men a good night as he walked down the side of the mountain where he and Dalmar had entered just two days before. He wasn't sure if he'd actually find any horses, but he had to try. His dwarven vision easily made sense of the dark forest, but even he knew that after two days, there really was no telling if they were even alive at all.
Invino Veritas
5/5/12
EOF
Saturday, April 28, 2012
The Story of Dalmar: Staring Through The Window Of The World
It was nearly noontime when the road to Gr'Valdth took a turn away from the familiar prairie beside which Lars and Dalmar traveled and diverted its path into the mountain passes. Travel had been relatively easy, and the two warriors enjoyed the summer breeze and sunlight that bathed the path like a soft, warm kiss from on high. Dalmar scanned the sky at the tops of the mountains before him and Lars, spying a pair of large raptors as they soared behind the great, jagged mountain peak, screeching to one another as they hunted. The horizon disappeared to the north as it was enveloped in a never-ending sea of crags and rising slopes, and the valley opened to the northwest before them. Reaching the edge of the slow descent into the green valley, the two travelers plotted their course around the wide pool of water in the center of the valley at its lowest point. Lars sniffed the air as the familiar aroma of burning wood drifted up the side of the long rise from the valley, and his eyes fell upon a small homestead off to the southwest of the lake. Gesturing towards the small cottage surrounded by grazing livestock, Lars entered the valley with Dalmar in tow.
Within an hour's time, Lars and Dalmar entered the rolling slope where the cattle grazed. The cows seemed wholly unimpressed by the newcomers as the familiar pinging of a smith's anvil rang out from the rickety barn in the near distance. As they neared the edge of a set of animal pens filled with swine and fowl, a woman and two children appeared in the center of the dusty pathway that bisected the home and the secondary building. The woman covered her eyes from the sun's glare as she peered across the valley at the two riders, turning momentarily to usher a command to her two young boys who darted into the barn. Soon thereafter, as the woman set down her heavy bucket of water, the sounds of the anvil stopped and a large, older man stepped out of the shadows of the barn. By the time the two boys emerged behind their father, Lars and Dalmar had calmly entered the dusty portion of the valley before the woman, and politely stopped their horses at the edge of the farm. The door of the cottage swung open as an elderly man with neatly tailored garb watched the scene as he puffed on his long, thin pipe. Dalmar smiled and waved at the family.
"Greetings!" Dalmar said as the man walked up beside his wife, giving her a reassuring squeeze on the arm as he took center stage before the two riders. The old man shifted in his stance, and sat down calmly on a wooden rocking chair in the shade of the porch. The woman turned to her two curious little boys, who now were apparently identical to one another, and ushered them softly to join their grandfather in front of the small home.
"Greetings, stranger." the man said, cautiously staring at the dwarf and the man.
"We were on our way to Gr'Valdth when we saw your farm and thought we'd stop by to hear of any news. We thought you might be able to give us some idea of what we can expect as we get closer to our destination." Dalmar smiled as he spoke, careful not provide any undue expectations of the part of Lars or himself.
"Sure, but from where are you fellows traveling?" the man asked.
"Altendon." Lars said as the man's eyes surveyed his armor and horse. "We're traveling to the market, maybe do a little trading while we are there."
"Well, keep on following the line of the valley, and once you reach the other side, you will see Gr'Valdth. It's a straight shot from here." the man said as he turned and pointed to the west. Dalmar, thinking to himself that the man seemed unwilling to visit with them for any longer than was necessary, sat up in his saddle and peered into the distance.
"Can you tell us what lies to either side of the valley, perhaps?" Lars continued.
"Not much, to tell you the truth. To the north, you'll find nothing but mountains and trees. To the south, it's pretty much the same though if you care to check it out, you may be able to spot the remains of Monmüth, an old monastery." Again, the man pointed behind him, but this time to the southwest. "Not much there anymore, however, unless you are looking for berbalangs and goblinfolk." The old man on the porch coughed as he rose to his feet, his bushily browed eyes glaring at his son as he cleared his throat. Lars and Dalmar looked at the old man as he stepped off the front porch and smiled at the two warriors.
"That wheel isn't going to fix itself, Abel. Why don't you go back to your anvil while I help these two find their destination?" The old man exuded a coy wisdom as he spoke, standing upright and regal as he placed one hand in his pocket while holding the bell of his pipe in the other.
"All right. Back to work then." Abel said as he smiled and turned towards the barn where the thin smoke of a foundry escaped. The woman picked her bucket from the pathway and began walking towards the house where she had originally intended, gesturing towards the two watching boys who followed her inside the home. The old man now faced Lars and Dalmar, and looking up at the two riders, smiled once again. A momentary chill came over Dalmar as he and Lars smiled back at the old man, and he shivered with the growing breeze blowing through the valley.
"Shall we?" beckoned the old timer as he took a draw from his pipe, and raised his arm gesturing to continue travel to the other side of the farm. Lars and Dalmar looked at each other, shrugging, and following the man as he walked in front of their horses past the barn and cottage. "Like Abel told you, Gr'Valdth is about a day's ride in that direction - maybe a little bit more, but that depends upon you, really." The old man's matter-of-fact approach had a calming effect on Dalmar, and his words seemed to flow like the memories of his own grandfather when Dalmar was a little boy. It was easy to trust this man for he had no discernible care in the world, and seemed to be at peace with his environment. Lars, however, remained stalwart as ever, alert and cautious. Dalmar had come to expect Lars' words to come only with certain amounts of forethought and deliberation. But all that was of little concern right now. Dalmar felt no need to concern himself with Lars' persistent demeanor as this man seemed quite pleasant in his eyes; he felt no need to be concerned.
"It seems to me that this Monmüth would be a good spot to rest for the night in between your home and Gr'Valdth if it can provide us some shelter in case of bad weather and whatnot." Lars said to the man.
"Normally, I would agree with you, gentlemen. But like I said, people who venture into those parts have a funny way of staying there for all eternity." The old man drew in a long draw of sweet smoke from his ivory white pipe, lowering his eyebrows slightly as if he was contemplating or remembering something. "The pathway is well marked from here to the town. Two able men such as yourselves should be enough of a deterrent for the whims of any such idle threats" he said.
"The valley see a lot of traffic between here and there?" Dalmar asked.
"Not at all, my good sirs. It's quite safe as long as you stick to the well defined areas of travel. The cartwheels and hoof prints have marked it well over the years." The old man said. "Feel free to water your horses and yourselves in the nearby lake before you leave the area. The waters there can be quite refreshing on a hot summer day as today."
"Thanks..." Dalmar said, interrupting Lars. Lars seemed disconcerted as he clenched his lips together, lowering his eyebrows at Dalmar's impertinence. Dalmar smiled back at the old man, oblivious to Lars' own apprehension and annoyance. "In fact, I certainly appreciate your time. Here, for your trouble." Dalmar smiled as he reached into his pocket and produced a gold coin given to him for the purpose of travel expenses.
"Why, thank you!" exclaimed the old man and he smiled wide and reached for the shining coin, nodded in approval to Dalmar. "May your journey be fruitful, and may your strengths never diminish! Bless you, kind sirs." The old man smiled as he bowed to each of them. Lars sighed heavily with discontent as his eyes left Dalmar's charmed visage, and he kicked his horse in its side as it took off towards the sunset over the valley. Dalmar thanked the old man once again and followed suit, catching up with is friend after a few minutes.
"What the hell were you doing?" barked Lars. "Boy, you sure are a nice old man! Have some gold!" Lars mockingly cried at Dalmar. "Might I add, you forgot to shine his shoes and bake him a pie, too. You were acting like a damned smitten little woman!"
"What the hell are you talking about? I did no such thing. He was nice!" Dalmar exclaimed.
"That nice old man was charming you, you dimwit!" Lars shouted. "Had we stayed there any longer, you probably would have stripped naked and gave him everything. You probably would've done it with a smile on your face!" Lars was furious that Dalmar had been so easy charmed. But Lars sighed a mighty sigh, knowing that human men were the easiest of all peoples to charm. It was not his fault.
"Well, why didn't you do anything?" Dalmar demanded, still in the heat of argument.
"I tried, but you interrupted me, Zeke. What would you have me do? Slaughter them all? Go on a rampage leaving a wake of ire and blood behind us?" Lars paused, spitting to the ground and smacking Dalmar on the back of the head. "You've got to learn these things for yourself. You're just lucky that I was with you when it happened." That was the first time Lars had spoken to him that way, and Dalmar, speechless, realized he had been foolish. He had acted like a child, completely enamored by the presence of the old man. Dalmar felt ashamed, and he never respected Lars any more before than he did at this moment. Dalmar stopped his horse and tugged on Lars' reins to stop his horse, too.
"Thanks...." Dalmar said as he looked at Lars, the dwarf's battle-hardened, angry stare piercing his eyes.
"Well...." Lars began as his face softened as a father feeling compassion for his son. "...don't let it happen again!" Lars grabbed the reins with a sharp tug away from Dalmar's grasp, and began trotting through the valley again. Dalmar, staring at Lars moving away from him, speechless still, nudged his own horse forward. "Besides..." Lars shouted without turning around to face Dalmar. "...now that you know, it should be easier to catch it next time!" Noticing the change of tone in the dwarf's voice, Dalmar sped his horse to meet Lars' own steed.
"Listen...." Dalmar started. "...there's something I need to tell you, Lars."
"I hope it's that you are giving me some gold, too." Lars said jokingly, his tone more playful now.
"No..." Dalmar responded, chuckling slightly and rolling his eyes. "I've been...I' mean..." Dalmar's heart jumped and he began to fear Lars' reaction to what he was about to tell his friend. Quickly, he sighed through his nose and clenched his lips. "My name isn't Zeke." Dalmar closed his eyes tightly at first, and slowly opening one eye in anticipation of Lars' reaction. Lars had turned towards him, and raised his own eyebrow, staring at Dalmar with a confused look on his face.
"Is that it?" Lars asked, the confusion persistent in his gaze at Dalmar.
"Well, yeah." Dalmar said sheepishly. Lars let out a raucous laugh stirring a small group of prairie chickens from their hiding place beneath a tuft of undergrowth. Dalmar's eyes grew wide, horrified that Lars was laughing at him.
"You thought..." Lars said, interrupting his own speech this time with the uncontrollable laughing from within. "You thought I didn't know your name wasn't Zeke?" Lars continued to laugh. Dalmar was no longer impressed, but for a moment he was embarrassed at his folly. Quickly his embarrassment turned to frustration. All this time he had been afraid to tell everyone his true name. He wanted to come clean, fearful that it would compromise the trust of those around him. But instead, his own paranoia had the best of him. Lars was now wiping his eyes with a pair of dirty fingers, catching his breath as he smiled at his friend and patted him on his back as they rode. "How long have you known?" Dalmar asked.
"Oh, since the first night you were given your own chambers, I believe. But I don't think anyone else knows, lad; your secret is safe with me. Byrum said you like to talk in your sleep. Personally, I like it. That would certainly stick in Dorian's craw if he found out." Lars grinned as he remembered his brother. "By the way, what is your name?" Lars asked.
"My name is Dalmar. I'm from...." Dalmar began as Lars interrupted.
"...No! Don't tell me anymore. It doesn't really serve either one of us any good for me to have that information, Dalmar." Lars chuckled to himself as he fell silent. Dalmar smiled, too. The weight of the lie had been released from him, and he felt a great stress had melted away from his body. Lars was, indeed, a good friend in a world filled with so many enemies. But even Dalmar didn't realize how much time had passed as they rode away from the farm where the old man took advantage of Dalmar, and it was only a moment after the conclusion of their exchange that Lars shouted to Dalmar and pointed to a sunlit spot of trees on the side of a mountain to the southwest. Escaping the dense canopy of trees like a painting on the king's wall were the ruins of a stone spire, cracked and crumbling along the rounded mountaintop where it had stood for nearly a century. Sitting high in his saddle, Dalmar was unable to spy any path or roadway leading to the structure. Lars, unable as well, turned to Dalmar to gauge his thoughts. Dalmar looked back at his friend and bit his lip, the curiosity building up inside of him as his mind raced.
"Tell you what..." Dalmar said.
"Yeah?" Lars asked a he grinned a devilish grin.
"Oh, never mind; you already know what I'm thinking." Dalmar said as he matched the dwarf's grin with one of his own.
"Aye, lad. Let's see what the rumpus is about." Lars turned his horse towards the mountain putting the sun to his back and straying from the main pathway. Dalmar followed his friend. A new sort of energy coursed through the two warriors as they raced up the side of the mountain. The area was thick with woody vines as a crumbling stairwell of sandy-colored stone appeared from the forested earth below and mixed with speckled gray granite carved in the likenesses of winged women and amorously remembered female warriors of ancient chivalry. No longer perfectly edged, each stair were as gravel and earth, testament to the harsh conditions and the will of the new gods that inhabited this place, wishing to remove the old ways from their homes. The forest had all but reclaimed the remnants of the monastery. As they reached the top of the walled stairwell, the sun had begun to signal the nearing end of the day with a brilliant array of red, orange, and yellow light gleaming in from the sky above as it broke the canopy of the forest. Lars spun his horse around and paused, in awe at the brilliant light and the view of the valley. Dalmar met his friend, and turned his horse around as well. There, they sat in awe, staring through the window of the world, looking into the eyes of the dawn where the sky and earth conjoined in eternal, blessed union.
Invino Veritas
4/28/12
EOF
Within an hour's time, Lars and Dalmar entered the rolling slope where the cattle grazed. The cows seemed wholly unimpressed by the newcomers as the familiar pinging of a smith's anvil rang out from the rickety barn in the near distance. As they neared the edge of a set of animal pens filled with swine and fowl, a woman and two children appeared in the center of the dusty pathway that bisected the home and the secondary building. The woman covered her eyes from the sun's glare as she peered across the valley at the two riders, turning momentarily to usher a command to her two young boys who darted into the barn. Soon thereafter, as the woman set down her heavy bucket of water, the sounds of the anvil stopped and a large, older man stepped out of the shadows of the barn. By the time the two boys emerged behind their father, Lars and Dalmar had calmly entered the dusty portion of the valley before the woman, and politely stopped their horses at the edge of the farm. The door of the cottage swung open as an elderly man with neatly tailored garb watched the scene as he puffed on his long, thin pipe. Dalmar smiled and waved at the family.
"Greetings!" Dalmar said as the man walked up beside his wife, giving her a reassuring squeeze on the arm as he took center stage before the two riders. The old man shifted in his stance, and sat down calmly on a wooden rocking chair in the shade of the porch. The woman turned to her two curious little boys, who now were apparently identical to one another, and ushered them softly to join their grandfather in front of the small home.
"Greetings, stranger." the man said, cautiously staring at the dwarf and the man.
"We were on our way to Gr'Valdth when we saw your farm and thought we'd stop by to hear of any news. We thought you might be able to give us some idea of what we can expect as we get closer to our destination." Dalmar smiled as he spoke, careful not provide any undue expectations of the part of Lars or himself.
"Sure, but from where are you fellows traveling?" the man asked.
"Altendon." Lars said as the man's eyes surveyed his armor and horse. "We're traveling to the market, maybe do a little trading while we are there."
"Well, keep on following the line of the valley, and once you reach the other side, you will see Gr'Valdth. It's a straight shot from here." the man said as he turned and pointed to the west. Dalmar, thinking to himself that the man seemed unwilling to visit with them for any longer than was necessary, sat up in his saddle and peered into the distance.
"Can you tell us what lies to either side of the valley, perhaps?" Lars continued.
"Not much, to tell you the truth. To the north, you'll find nothing but mountains and trees. To the south, it's pretty much the same though if you care to check it out, you may be able to spot the remains of Monmüth, an old monastery." Again, the man pointed behind him, but this time to the southwest. "Not much there anymore, however, unless you are looking for berbalangs and goblinfolk." The old man on the porch coughed as he rose to his feet, his bushily browed eyes glaring at his son as he cleared his throat. Lars and Dalmar looked at the old man as he stepped off the front porch and smiled at the two warriors.
"That wheel isn't going to fix itself, Abel. Why don't you go back to your anvil while I help these two find their destination?" The old man exuded a coy wisdom as he spoke, standing upright and regal as he placed one hand in his pocket while holding the bell of his pipe in the other.
"All right. Back to work then." Abel said as he smiled and turned towards the barn where the thin smoke of a foundry escaped. The woman picked her bucket from the pathway and began walking towards the house where she had originally intended, gesturing towards the two watching boys who followed her inside the home. The old man now faced Lars and Dalmar, and looking up at the two riders, smiled once again. A momentary chill came over Dalmar as he and Lars smiled back at the old man, and he shivered with the growing breeze blowing through the valley.
"Shall we?" beckoned the old timer as he took a draw from his pipe, and raised his arm gesturing to continue travel to the other side of the farm. Lars and Dalmar looked at each other, shrugging, and following the man as he walked in front of their horses past the barn and cottage. "Like Abel told you, Gr'Valdth is about a day's ride in that direction - maybe a little bit more, but that depends upon you, really." The old man's matter-of-fact approach had a calming effect on Dalmar, and his words seemed to flow like the memories of his own grandfather when Dalmar was a little boy. It was easy to trust this man for he had no discernible care in the world, and seemed to be at peace with his environment. Lars, however, remained stalwart as ever, alert and cautious. Dalmar had come to expect Lars' words to come only with certain amounts of forethought and deliberation. But all that was of little concern right now. Dalmar felt no need to concern himself with Lars' persistent demeanor as this man seemed quite pleasant in his eyes; he felt no need to be concerned.
"It seems to me that this Monmüth would be a good spot to rest for the night in between your home and Gr'Valdth if it can provide us some shelter in case of bad weather and whatnot." Lars said to the man.
"Normally, I would agree with you, gentlemen. But like I said, people who venture into those parts have a funny way of staying there for all eternity." The old man drew in a long draw of sweet smoke from his ivory white pipe, lowering his eyebrows slightly as if he was contemplating or remembering something. "The pathway is well marked from here to the town. Two able men such as yourselves should be enough of a deterrent for the whims of any such idle threats" he said.
"The valley see a lot of traffic between here and there?" Dalmar asked.
"Not at all, my good sirs. It's quite safe as long as you stick to the well defined areas of travel. The cartwheels and hoof prints have marked it well over the years." The old man said. "Feel free to water your horses and yourselves in the nearby lake before you leave the area. The waters there can be quite refreshing on a hot summer day as today."
"Thanks..." Dalmar said, interrupting Lars. Lars seemed disconcerted as he clenched his lips together, lowering his eyebrows at Dalmar's impertinence. Dalmar smiled back at the old man, oblivious to Lars' own apprehension and annoyance. "In fact, I certainly appreciate your time. Here, for your trouble." Dalmar smiled as he reached into his pocket and produced a gold coin given to him for the purpose of travel expenses.
"Why, thank you!" exclaimed the old man and he smiled wide and reached for the shining coin, nodded in approval to Dalmar. "May your journey be fruitful, and may your strengths never diminish! Bless you, kind sirs." The old man smiled as he bowed to each of them. Lars sighed heavily with discontent as his eyes left Dalmar's charmed visage, and he kicked his horse in its side as it took off towards the sunset over the valley. Dalmar thanked the old man once again and followed suit, catching up with is friend after a few minutes.
"What the hell were you doing?" barked Lars. "Boy, you sure are a nice old man! Have some gold!" Lars mockingly cried at Dalmar. "Might I add, you forgot to shine his shoes and bake him a pie, too. You were acting like a damned smitten little woman!"
"What the hell are you talking about? I did no such thing. He was nice!" Dalmar exclaimed.
"That nice old man was charming you, you dimwit!" Lars shouted. "Had we stayed there any longer, you probably would have stripped naked and gave him everything. You probably would've done it with a smile on your face!" Lars was furious that Dalmar had been so easy charmed. But Lars sighed a mighty sigh, knowing that human men were the easiest of all peoples to charm. It was not his fault.
"Well, why didn't you do anything?" Dalmar demanded, still in the heat of argument.
"I tried, but you interrupted me, Zeke. What would you have me do? Slaughter them all? Go on a rampage leaving a wake of ire and blood behind us?" Lars paused, spitting to the ground and smacking Dalmar on the back of the head. "You've got to learn these things for yourself. You're just lucky that I was with you when it happened." That was the first time Lars had spoken to him that way, and Dalmar, speechless, realized he had been foolish. He had acted like a child, completely enamored by the presence of the old man. Dalmar felt ashamed, and he never respected Lars any more before than he did at this moment. Dalmar stopped his horse and tugged on Lars' reins to stop his horse, too.
"Thanks...." Dalmar said as he looked at Lars, the dwarf's battle-hardened, angry stare piercing his eyes.
"Well...." Lars began as his face softened as a father feeling compassion for his son. "...don't let it happen again!" Lars grabbed the reins with a sharp tug away from Dalmar's grasp, and began trotting through the valley again. Dalmar, staring at Lars moving away from him, speechless still, nudged his own horse forward. "Besides..." Lars shouted without turning around to face Dalmar. "...now that you know, it should be easier to catch it next time!" Noticing the change of tone in the dwarf's voice, Dalmar sped his horse to meet Lars' own steed.
"Listen...." Dalmar started. "...there's something I need to tell you, Lars."
"I hope it's that you are giving me some gold, too." Lars said jokingly, his tone more playful now.
"No..." Dalmar responded, chuckling slightly and rolling his eyes. "I've been...I' mean..." Dalmar's heart jumped and he began to fear Lars' reaction to what he was about to tell his friend. Quickly, he sighed through his nose and clenched his lips. "My name isn't Zeke." Dalmar closed his eyes tightly at first, and slowly opening one eye in anticipation of Lars' reaction. Lars had turned towards him, and raised his own eyebrow, staring at Dalmar with a confused look on his face.
"Is that it?" Lars asked, the confusion persistent in his gaze at Dalmar.
"Well, yeah." Dalmar said sheepishly. Lars let out a raucous laugh stirring a small group of prairie chickens from their hiding place beneath a tuft of undergrowth. Dalmar's eyes grew wide, horrified that Lars was laughing at him.
"You thought..." Lars said, interrupting his own speech this time with the uncontrollable laughing from within. "You thought I didn't know your name wasn't Zeke?" Lars continued to laugh. Dalmar was no longer impressed, but for a moment he was embarrassed at his folly. Quickly his embarrassment turned to frustration. All this time he had been afraid to tell everyone his true name. He wanted to come clean, fearful that it would compromise the trust of those around him. But instead, his own paranoia had the best of him. Lars was now wiping his eyes with a pair of dirty fingers, catching his breath as he smiled at his friend and patted him on his back as they rode. "How long have you known?" Dalmar asked.
"Oh, since the first night you were given your own chambers, I believe. But I don't think anyone else knows, lad; your secret is safe with me. Byrum said you like to talk in your sleep. Personally, I like it. That would certainly stick in Dorian's craw if he found out." Lars grinned as he remembered his brother. "By the way, what is your name?" Lars asked.
"My name is Dalmar. I'm from...." Dalmar began as Lars interrupted.
"...No! Don't tell me anymore. It doesn't really serve either one of us any good for me to have that information, Dalmar." Lars chuckled to himself as he fell silent. Dalmar smiled, too. The weight of the lie had been released from him, and he felt a great stress had melted away from his body. Lars was, indeed, a good friend in a world filled with so many enemies. But even Dalmar didn't realize how much time had passed as they rode away from the farm where the old man took advantage of Dalmar, and it was only a moment after the conclusion of their exchange that Lars shouted to Dalmar and pointed to a sunlit spot of trees on the side of a mountain to the southwest. Escaping the dense canopy of trees like a painting on the king's wall were the ruins of a stone spire, cracked and crumbling along the rounded mountaintop where it had stood for nearly a century. Sitting high in his saddle, Dalmar was unable to spy any path or roadway leading to the structure. Lars, unable as well, turned to Dalmar to gauge his thoughts. Dalmar looked back at his friend and bit his lip, the curiosity building up inside of him as his mind raced.
"Tell you what..." Dalmar said.
"Yeah?" Lars asked a he grinned a devilish grin.
"Oh, never mind; you already know what I'm thinking." Dalmar said as he matched the dwarf's grin with one of his own.
"Aye, lad. Let's see what the rumpus is about." Lars turned his horse towards the mountain putting the sun to his back and straying from the main pathway. Dalmar followed his friend. A new sort of energy coursed through the two warriors as they raced up the side of the mountain. The area was thick with woody vines as a crumbling stairwell of sandy-colored stone appeared from the forested earth below and mixed with speckled gray granite carved in the likenesses of winged women and amorously remembered female warriors of ancient chivalry. No longer perfectly edged, each stair were as gravel and earth, testament to the harsh conditions and the will of the new gods that inhabited this place, wishing to remove the old ways from their homes. The forest had all but reclaimed the remnants of the monastery. As they reached the top of the walled stairwell, the sun had begun to signal the nearing end of the day with a brilliant array of red, orange, and yellow light gleaming in from the sky above as it broke the canopy of the forest. Lars spun his horse around and paused, in awe at the brilliant light and the view of the valley. Dalmar met his friend, and turned his horse around as well. There, they sat in awe, staring through the window of the world, looking into the eyes of the dawn where the sky and earth conjoined in eternal, blessed union.
Invino Veritas
4/28/12
EOF
Sunday, April 22, 2012
The Story of Dalmar: The Road To Gr'Valdth
It was nearly midday before Dalmar and Lars awoke suddenly to the sound of a large crashing noise and the smell of wood burning drifting into the treeline from the east where they had entered from the roadway. Dalmar sprung to his feet to find Lars with his hands on the saddle of his horse, hoisting his body onto his horse's back. Dalmar's eyes darted through the shadows the trees and into the prairie beyond the far edge of the road. A plume of smoke, partially obscured by the forest, drifted lazily across the scene as another booming crash echoed through the landscape, and Dalmar quickly mounted his horse. Directing the nose of their horses, the two riders erupted from the early morning's campsite in the trees and immediately stopped in the middle of the road. The prairie, ablaze with a torrent of flame and blowing embers, roared with the popping and smoky remnants of a large craft. The bulbous remains of the ship's large canopy of air slowly deflated as the flames overtook it and devoured it before the two warriors' eyes, and the rear of the foreign vessel stood upright in the air, erupting two monstrous columns of thick, black smoke upwards. With eyes wide, Lars looked at Dalmar and together they nodded, as they both spied the remains of various forms of cargo strewn about the road ahead and the grassy plain. Pieces of timber and constructs of mechanical nature blew into the air with one final destructive explosion as the two horses underneath their onlookers whinnied and fought the reins of their riders. Dalmar nudged his steed in its side and together the man and the dwarf raced into the tall grass towards the wreckage.
The heat and fury of the burning ship stood like a hellish wall of heat as Lars and Dalmar raced around the perimeter of the wreck. The smoke moved over the top of the landscape like a fantastic serpent of fire and smoke, rolling over itself and burning the eyes. The horses complained mightily, tugging at their reins, but the two discoverers of this unfortunate event continued until their vision broke through the moderately tangible cylinder of caustic outpouring. It was then that Dalmar and Lars spied the two persons, running furiously away from the burning carcass of their vessel. Their obvious gait was one of fear, a desire to escape the threat of falling debris and the unknown person barreling down upon them on horseback. The wind shifted slightly as the wisps of smoke diverted their path to the east, clouding the scene as Dalmar and Lars grew closer to the two people on foot. Finally within earshot, the larger of the two, a man of about thirty years, turned and drew his short sword. His dark eyes and icy, blue stare lowered as he stood before the dwarf and his comrade slowed down before them and halted their progress. Falling with a blunt thud to the ground, the woman behind this brave soul raised herself above the tops of the grass and peered at Dalmar and Lars who gazed once again on the remains of the burning craft.
"What happened? Are there any more of you?" Dalmar shouted to the man. The man stared Dalmar in the face, standing with a defensive posture, his eyes darting back and forth between the man and the dwarf. The young woman, sat expectantly in the grass, her leg apparently injured in the crash.
"Stay away! I will not hesitate to cut you down!" shouted the man. His shiny black ponytail whipped behind his body in the gust of wind, and he began to slowly back way from the two warriors in front of him. "Leave peacefully! Go back and tell Torredahl we want no more of that place and its queen! Go!" the man shouted again, pausing for response.
"Listen, man, we don't know of this Torredahl. We're here to help. Are there anymore of you?" Lars asserted. The rumbling of the burning wreck echoed behind him as the breeze steadily blew puffs of smoke through the scene. At once, mixed with the sounds of burning wreckage as it settled upon the smoldering timbers of the craft, Lars paused and looked back to the roadway as the sounds of horses broke through the prairie fire.
"Zeke. Company." Lars said to Dalmar as they both diverted their attention to four armed riders traversing the opposite side through the tall grass towards them. swords drawn. The lead rider and his men raced through the grass in the direction of the unknown man and the woman, their bodies disappearing and reappearing in the thick smoke that wafted across the plain. At once, the woman sprung to her feet and began hobbling furious further across the plains, and the man turned and fled in the opposite direction of the riders. Dalmar looked at Lars as the two warriors drew their swords and nodded to each other, jabbed their mounts in the side, and raced to intercept the four mounted cavalry of thugs. Within secondsthe two bands of warriors met each other with the burning wreck behind them and drew their horses to a pause, facing each other with gleaming swords and rugged armor. Two of the four attackers continued riding towards the man and the woman disappearing towards the far treeline across the grasslands.
"Stand aside! This is none of your affair!" barked the rugged warrior. Dalmar's eyes moved over his torso covered with chainmail, noticing a strange emblem upon his shoulder of two swords covered in red flame.
"You have entered the domain of Polias of Altendon. You have no authority here." Lars said. "Go back from where you came, and leave these people in peace." A scream burst through the scene of the exchange as Dalmar turned to view the riders and the man engaged combat. Lars continued to stare the leader in the eyes, minding the gruesome cat-of-nine-tails he held in his free hand.
"Those people are traitors! I have the decree of Analexis, Queen of Torredahl's authority. We need no other!" the man cried at Lars as he gestured with his whip and gave it a mighty crack beside him. For a moment, Lars stared intently at the man as the offending warrior's eyes widened with intent. Meeting the mad crusader's decision, Lars, with a strike like lightning, lunged over the back of his horse placeing a well-armed strike with his blade into the armpit of the ruffian as he raised his cat-of-nine-tails into the air. The red blood erupted from the dangerous strike and the warrior cried out in pain, and Lars body, off-balance, tumbled to the ground below the feet of the horses. Dalmar's head swiveled back around at the loud shout in time to catch the second horseman in front of them rushing towards him swinging his blade. Dalmar raised his own blade to parry, sounding off a loud metallic clang, and matching his attacker with his own slice. Dalmar's blade, whistling through the air, met the horseman's neck at its wattle and cleaved the mongrel's head off, sending it tumbling to the ground like a lone melon.
"Zeke! Go help the other two!" Lars shouted as he sprang to his own feet, reaching behind him to grab his axe. Dalmar turned his horse, and raced towards the man and the woman confronted by the other two. Dalmar swung his sword and he split the sea of grass between the soldiers and the escapees. Within seconds, Dalmar was upon the man on horseback. Several meters behind Dalmar, Lars had drawn his axe and was dodging the furious strikes of the wounded and ailing man in his midst. Lars' strike had proven to be fatal as a gush of red, frothy blood streamed down the man and onto the back of his leg and horse. The complexion of this failing warrior became suddenly pale white as his fury ceased, and Lars backed away from quickly dying man. With one last futile grunt, the man, at the mercy of his spinning horse, rolled his eyes in the back of his head, and fell silent. The limp torso of the once-determined invader slumped forward on its mount, and slid off his saddle onto the ground, lifeless. Lars sighed and re-sheathed his axe on his back. Meanwhile, Dalmar had caught up with the remaining attacker. Dalmar drew his horse close to the man in tarnished armor rushing at the dark-haired man on the ground, but ringing out in familiar tone, Dalmar heard the shot of a quarrel. The soldier, struck with surprise, arched his back as his sword flew into the air. Spying the well-aimed quarrel, the man fell over the back of his horse, glancing off Dalmar's horse, and onto the ground below motionless. Dalmar scanned the area furiously, expecting another sortie of armed men, but found none. His eyes fell upon the fatigued, and injured man before him, blood draping the forearm of his sword arm. Appearing from behind this skilled man was the woman, bearing a light crossbow, another quarrel loaded and aimed at Dalmar.
The sound of tiny hooves rode up quickly behind Dalmar who seemed to be held fast by the intently aimed crossbow of the woman, her soft brown eyebrows turned low. This time, the two strangers did not run. Lars sat firm in his saddle as Dalmar sat with his arms raised. "Listen, we don't mean to harm you." Dalmar exclaimed. "We're only here to help."
"Aye, lass. Put down down your crossbow and have a moment." Lars complemented.
"Who are you? And what conflict do you bear with Torredahl's soldiers? Speak quickly and truly, or I shall lay you low before your next breath" the woman spoke, her words riddled with intent and passion.
"I am Lars and this is Zeke. We are wards of Polias, King of Altendon. You are now in his lands. You have nothing to fear here." Lars smiled and gestured a gesture of good faith, showing the flats of his palms to each of the newcomers to Altendon. The brown skinned woman lowered her crossbow and relaxed, sighing loud and shaking her head. Her fierce eyes held their passion, however, and her friend relaxed his stance as well. The dark-haired swordsman re-sheathed his own sword, and sighed as well.
"Altendon? Are you sure?" the man asked.
"Quite." Lars answered.
"But you wear no markings, no signs, no symbols. Does Polias have no standards?" The man smirked as he looked at Lars and Dalmar, his eyes scrutinizing every inch of their persons.
"The edges of the kingdom are wrought with bandits and rogue warriors of all kinds. It's not always wise to travel with the king's message bearing his symbols to the world." Lars explained.
"Cant you see they don't know anything, Zaren?" the woman said with frustrated tone as she rolled her eyes. "Come on, let's just get out of here. Thanks for the help, but please, leave us alone now. On your way!" The woman turned as her brown braids flew about her head with the turn of her body towards the eastern treeline. Zaren looked up at Dalmar and Lars, and he gave a sheepish sort of grin.
"You have to excuse Lydia. She's not used to accepting the kindness of strangers. Elves are funny that way." Zaren said.
"Elves?" Dalmar asked smartly. "She's an elf?" Dalmar's heart jumped in his chest. "Where exactly were you traveling from, Zaren, when you had trouble here?"
"We had just passed over the ridge to the north when, out of nowhere, we rain into a rainstorm. We were struck with a bolt of lightning off our front bow." Zaren explained.
"Bow? You make it sound like you were traveling by boat." Lars scoffed.
"Well, The Cypress, for the most part, was a boat, only it sailed in the sky." Zaren said. "Don't you people have airships?" Lars and Dalmar looked at each other, equally confused and curious about this concept of airships.
"Zaren, I should think you'd be more willing to reach NosÞadiem before the next great cataclysm!" Lydia's angry voice echoed over the prairie as the three men looked back at the dark-skinned elf standing with arms akimbo.
"Wait a minute, Lydia!" Zaren shouted back. "For Morden's sake, these people have done nothing but help us. The least we can do is thank them and return the favor!" Zaren shook his head as he turned back towards Lars and Dalmar. Lydia reversed her direction, and charged back to the three men standing on the prairie.
"So, who were those men following you? Are there anymore of them?" Lars asked inquisitively as Lydia caught back up with them.
"Those are the soldiers of Analexis, the Queen of Torredahl. That's a kingdom in lower Glorsheim northeast of Gr'Valdth. We were coming out of Gr'Valdth when we got hit by the storm." Zaren excplained. "Lydia believes that the storm was the fault of Analexis' retainer, Z'biir, and there could be more heading this way looking for us. It's difficult to say actually." he continued.
"Z'biir?" Dalmar asked.
"Z'biir is trouble. He is a wizard who controls a many great things. He eyes see a long ways when he looks. That's why we have to get to NosÞadiem - that's the edge of his domain." Lydia scowled as she said the name of Z'biir. Her belief coursed through her every bone and boiled in her blood. Lars chuckled. Dalmar's face was one of fascination.
"I, too, have an elven friend. He was captured a while back. I hope to find him." Dalmar offered. Lydia seemed unimpressed by Dalmar's story.
"Elves have no human friends. They just tolerate them from time to time." Lydia smiled menacingly at Zaren, baiting his response to her self-righteousness.
"Quiet you." Zaren said, chuckling. Dalmar, spying the playful banter of the two travelers, chuckled as well.
"By any chance did you happen to see any other elves in while you were in Gr'Valdth?" Dalmar asked.
"The elf trade is big business for some merchants in Gr'Valdth, but generally speaking, it's not viewed as pleasant nor proper business by many. I saw no elves while I was there. But if there are any in or around Gr'Valdth, I'd look up-" Zaren stopped as Lydia interrupted.
"What are you doing, you brownie teat?! They could be merchants themselves!" Lydia scolded Zaren, smacking him on his wounded arm with her open hand. Lars and Dalmar both chuckled this time.
"We are no merchants." Lars with a carefree tone.
"Anyways, if you are headed to Gr'Valdth, you'd probably find an interest in talking to a guy by the name of Quixopsis. He's been known to deal in all sorts of strange things. He usually hangs out in the main market - short fella' that likes rings. Won't be too hard to miss once you find him the first time." Zaren smiled, and turned his attention to Lydia who was not impressed nor had retained any amount of patience for this exchange.
"Are we done now, Zaren?" Lydia demanded.
"Are you sure you don't need any help finding your way, Zaren?" Lars asked.
"Lars, we will be fine. Lydia's an excellent tracker and guide. I have all the faith in the world in her. This isn't our first battle, sir." Zaren smiled as he and Lydia turned towards the treeline. After a moment, Zaren turned back around, shouting across the prairie. "By the way, which direction did you say your town was in?" Dalmar sat straight up in his saddle and pointed towards Altendon and waved, chuckling as he and Lars turned their horses to face the roadway on the other side of the smoldering structure of the airship. The two warriors gathered the four horses left by the defeated soldiers, careful not to bear any markings that could identify them as owned by someone else. Gathering the swords and the strange cat-of-nine-tails, Dalmar collected them into an empty sack and hung it off the side of one of the horses.
"What are you doing?" Lars asked with an eyebrow raised.
"Gr'Valdth seems to be a merchant's town. Well, if that's the case, then we'll be merchants." Dalmar smiled, proud of his moment of clever insight. Lars unable return the sentiment, focused upon the roadway and the oncoming edge of the mountain range far in the distance. Reaching into his knapsack, Lars produced the small pipe that Dalmar had seen last night when they met upon the roadway. He reached into a small bag of tobacco, pinched a lump of it between his fingers nad thumb, and dropped it into the bell at the end of the pipe. Packing it tightly, he produced a tiny sliver of paper wrapped around a glass bell which he quickly struck on the side of his armored leggings emitting a high-pitching ring. Broken from the strike, the sliver of paper erupted into flame as Lars lit his pipe and tossed the ember of paper aside. Lars relaxed as he drew in the sweet smoke, and Dalmar smiled as the scent wafted by his nose.
"You never did tell me how you got away from those four men in the mountains - the ones that chased you when we split up and met back on the road here." Dalmar said. Lars drew in a deep puff of smoke and blew it into the light breeze traveling along the road.
Smiling, the pipe dangling from his mouth and staring straight ahead, Lars said, "Nope. You're right, I did'nt."
Invino Veritas
4/22/12
EOF
The heat and fury of the burning ship stood like a hellish wall of heat as Lars and Dalmar raced around the perimeter of the wreck. The smoke moved over the top of the landscape like a fantastic serpent of fire and smoke, rolling over itself and burning the eyes. The horses complained mightily, tugging at their reins, but the two discoverers of this unfortunate event continued until their vision broke through the moderately tangible cylinder of caustic outpouring. It was then that Dalmar and Lars spied the two persons, running furiously away from the burning carcass of their vessel. Their obvious gait was one of fear, a desire to escape the threat of falling debris and the unknown person barreling down upon them on horseback. The wind shifted slightly as the wisps of smoke diverted their path to the east, clouding the scene as Dalmar and Lars grew closer to the two people on foot. Finally within earshot, the larger of the two, a man of about thirty years, turned and drew his short sword. His dark eyes and icy, blue stare lowered as he stood before the dwarf and his comrade slowed down before them and halted their progress. Falling with a blunt thud to the ground, the woman behind this brave soul raised herself above the tops of the grass and peered at Dalmar and Lars who gazed once again on the remains of the burning craft.
"What happened? Are there any more of you?" Dalmar shouted to the man. The man stared Dalmar in the face, standing with a defensive posture, his eyes darting back and forth between the man and the dwarf. The young woman, sat expectantly in the grass, her leg apparently injured in the crash.
"Stay away! I will not hesitate to cut you down!" shouted the man. His shiny black ponytail whipped behind his body in the gust of wind, and he began to slowly back way from the two warriors in front of him. "Leave peacefully! Go back and tell Torredahl we want no more of that place and its queen! Go!" the man shouted again, pausing for response.
"Listen, man, we don't know of this Torredahl. We're here to help. Are there anymore of you?" Lars asserted. The rumbling of the burning wreck echoed behind him as the breeze steadily blew puffs of smoke through the scene. At once, mixed with the sounds of burning wreckage as it settled upon the smoldering timbers of the craft, Lars paused and looked back to the roadway as the sounds of horses broke through the prairie fire.
"Zeke. Company." Lars said to Dalmar as they both diverted their attention to four armed riders traversing the opposite side through the tall grass towards them. swords drawn. The lead rider and his men raced through the grass in the direction of the unknown man and the woman, their bodies disappearing and reappearing in the thick smoke that wafted across the plain. At once, the woman sprung to her feet and began hobbling furious further across the plains, and the man turned and fled in the opposite direction of the riders. Dalmar looked at Lars as the two warriors drew their swords and nodded to each other, jabbed their mounts in the side, and raced to intercept the four mounted cavalry of thugs. Within secondsthe two bands of warriors met each other with the burning wreck behind them and drew their horses to a pause, facing each other with gleaming swords and rugged armor. Two of the four attackers continued riding towards the man and the woman disappearing towards the far treeline across the grasslands.
"Stand aside! This is none of your affair!" barked the rugged warrior. Dalmar's eyes moved over his torso covered with chainmail, noticing a strange emblem upon his shoulder of two swords covered in red flame.
"You have entered the domain of Polias of Altendon. You have no authority here." Lars said. "Go back from where you came, and leave these people in peace." A scream burst through the scene of the exchange as Dalmar turned to view the riders and the man engaged combat. Lars continued to stare the leader in the eyes, minding the gruesome cat-of-nine-tails he held in his free hand.
"Those people are traitors! I have the decree of Analexis, Queen of Torredahl's authority. We need no other!" the man cried at Lars as he gestured with his whip and gave it a mighty crack beside him. For a moment, Lars stared intently at the man as the offending warrior's eyes widened with intent. Meeting the mad crusader's decision, Lars, with a strike like lightning, lunged over the back of his horse placeing a well-armed strike with his blade into the armpit of the ruffian as he raised his cat-of-nine-tails into the air. The red blood erupted from the dangerous strike and the warrior cried out in pain, and Lars body, off-balance, tumbled to the ground below the feet of the horses. Dalmar's head swiveled back around at the loud shout in time to catch the second horseman in front of them rushing towards him swinging his blade. Dalmar raised his own blade to parry, sounding off a loud metallic clang, and matching his attacker with his own slice. Dalmar's blade, whistling through the air, met the horseman's neck at its wattle and cleaved the mongrel's head off, sending it tumbling to the ground like a lone melon.
"Zeke! Go help the other two!" Lars shouted as he sprang to his own feet, reaching behind him to grab his axe. Dalmar turned his horse, and raced towards the man and the woman confronted by the other two. Dalmar swung his sword and he split the sea of grass between the soldiers and the escapees. Within seconds, Dalmar was upon the man on horseback. Several meters behind Dalmar, Lars had drawn his axe and was dodging the furious strikes of the wounded and ailing man in his midst. Lars' strike had proven to be fatal as a gush of red, frothy blood streamed down the man and onto the back of his leg and horse. The complexion of this failing warrior became suddenly pale white as his fury ceased, and Lars backed away from quickly dying man. With one last futile grunt, the man, at the mercy of his spinning horse, rolled his eyes in the back of his head, and fell silent. The limp torso of the once-determined invader slumped forward on its mount, and slid off his saddle onto the ground, lifeless. Lars sighed and re-sheathed his axe on his back. Meanwhile, Dalmar had caught up with the remaining attacker. Dalmar drew his horse close to the man in tarnished armor rushing at the dark-haired man on the ground, but ringing out in familiar tone, Dalmar heard the shot of a quarrel. The soldier, struck with surprise, arched his back as his sword flew into the air. Spying the well-aimed quarrel, the man fell over the back of his horse, glancing off Dalmar's horse, and onto the ground below motionless. Dalmar scanned the area furiously, expecting another sortie of armed men, but found none. His eyes fell upon the fatigued, and injured man before him, blood draping the forearm of his sword arm. Appearing from behind this skilled man was the woman, bearing a light crossbow, another quarrel loaded and aimed at Dalmar.
The sound of tiny hooves rode up quickly behind Dalmar who seemed to be held fast by the intently aimed crossbow of the woman, her soft brown eyebrows turned low. This time, the two strangers did not run. Lars sat firm in his saddle as Dalmar sat with his arms raised. "Listen, we don't mean to harm you." Dalmar exclaimed. "We're only here to help."
"Aye, lass. Put down down your crossbow and have a moment." Lars complemented.
"Who are you? And what conflict do you bear with Torredahl's soldiers? Speak quickly and truly, or I shall lay you low before your next breath" the woman spoke, her words riddled with intent and passion.
"I am Lars and this is Zeke. We are wards of Polias, King of Altendon. You are now in his lands. You have nothing to fear here." Lars smiled and gestured a gesture of good faith, showing the flats of his palms to each of the newcomers to Altendon. The brown skinned woman lowered her crossbow and relaxed, sighing loud and shaking her head. Her fierce eyes held their passion, however, and her friend relaxed his stance as well. The dark-haired swordsman re-sheathed his own sword, and sighed as well.
"Altendon? Are you sure?" the man asked.
"Quite." Lars answered.
"But you wear no markings, no signs, no symbols. Does Polias have no standards?" The man smirked as he looked at Lars and Dalmar, his eyes scrutinizing every inch of their persons.
"The edges of the kingdom are wrought with bandits and rogue warriors of all kinds. It's not always wise to travel with the king's message bearing his symbols to the world." Lars explained.
"Cant you see they don't know anything, Zaren?" the woman said with frustrated tone as she rolled her eyes. "Come on, let's just get out of here. Thanks for the help, but please, leave us alone now. On your way!" The woman turned as her brown braids flew about her head with the turn of her body towards the eastern treeline. Zaren looked up at Dalmar and Lars, and he gave a sheepish sort of grin.
"You have to excuse Lydia. She's not used to accepting the kindness of strangers. Elves are funny that way." Zaren said.
"Elves?" Dalmar asked smartly. "She's an elf?" Dalmar's heart jumped in his chest. "Where exactly were you traveling from, Zaren, when you had trouble here?"
"We had just passed over the ridge to the north when, out of nowhere, we rain into a rainstorm. We were struck with a bolt of lightning off our front bow." Zaren explained.
"Bow? You make it sound like you were traveling by boat." Lars scoffed.
"Well, The Cypress, for the most part, was a boat, only it sailed in the sky." Zaren said. "Don't you people have airships?" Lars and Dalmar looked at each other, equally confused and curious about this concept of airships.
"Zaren, I should think you'd be more willing to reach NosÞadiem before the next great cataclysm!" Lydia's angry voice echoed over the prairie as the three men looked back at the dark-skinned elf standing with arms akimbo.
"Wait a minute, Lydia!" Zaren shouted back. "For Morden's sake, these people have done nothing but help us. The least we can do is thank them and return the favor!" Zaren shook his head as he turned back towards Lars and Dalmar. Lydia reversed her direction, and charged back to the three men standing on the prairie.
"So, who were those men following you? Are there anymore of them?" Lars asked inquisitively as Lydia caught back up with them.
"Those are the soldiers of Analexis, the Queen of Torredahl. That's a kingdom in lower Glorsheim northeast of Gr'Valdth. We were coming out of Gr'Valdth when we got hit by the storm." Zaren excplained. "Lydia believes that the storm was the fault of Analexis' retainer, Z'biir, and there could be more heading this way looking for us. It's difficult to say actually." he continued.
"Z'biir?" Dalmar asked.
"Z'biir is trouble. He is a wizard who controls a many great things. He eyes see a long ways when he looks. That's why we have to get to NosÞadiem - that's the edge of his domain." Lydia scowled as she said the name of Z'biir. Her belief coursed through her every bone and boiled in her blood. Lars chuckled. Dalmar's face was one of fascination.
"I, too, have an elven friend. He was captured a while back. I hope to find him." Dalmar offered. Lydia seemed unimpressed by Dalmar's story.
"Elves have no human friends. They just tolerate them from time to time." Lydia smiled menacingly at Zaren, baiting his response to her self-righteousness.
"Quiet you." Zaren said, chuckling. Dalmar, spying the playful banter of the two travelers, chuckled as well.
"By any chance did you happen to see any other elves in while you were in Gr'Valdth?" Dalmar asked.
"The elf trade is big business for some merchants in Gr'Valdth, but generally speaking, it's not viewed as pleasant nor proper business by many. I saw no elves while I was there. But if there are any in or around Gr'Valdth, I'd look up-" Zaren stopped as Lydia interrupted.
"What are you doing, you brownie teat?! They could be merchants themselves!" Lydia scolded Zaren, smacking him on his wounded arm with her open hand. Lars and Dalmar both chuckled this time.
"We are no merchants." Lars with a carefree tone.
"Anyways, if you are headed to Gr'Valdth, you'd probably find an interest in talking to a guy by the name of Quixopsis. He's been known to deal in all sorts of strange things. He usually hangs out in the main market - short fella' that likes rings. Won't be too hard to miss once you find him the first time." Zaren smiled, and turned his attention to Lydia who was not impressed nor had retained any amount of patience for this exchange.
"Are we done now, Zaren?" Lydia demanded.
"Are you sure you don't need any help finding your way, Zaren?" Lars asked.
"Lars, we will be fine. Lydia's an excellent tracker and guide. I have all the faith in the world in her. This isn't our first battle, sir." Zaren smiled as he and Lydia turned towards the treeline. After a moment, Zaren turned back around, shouting across the prairie. "By the way, which direction did you say your town was in?" Dalmar sat straight up in his saddle and pointed towards Altendon and waved, chuckling as he and Lars turned their horses to face the roadway on the other side of the smoldering structure of the airship. The two warriors gathered the four horses left by the defeated soldiers, careful not to bear any markings that could identify them as owned by someone else. Gathering the swords and the strange cat-of-nine-tails, Dalmar collected them into an empty sack and hung it off the side of one of the horses.
"What are you doing?" Lars asked with an eyebrow raised.
"Gr'Valdth seems to be a merchant's town. Well, if that's the case, then we'll be merchants." Dalmar smiled, proud of his moment of clever insight. Lars unable return the sentiment, focused upon the roadway and the oncoming edge of the mountain range far in the distance. Reaching into his knapsack, Lars produced the small pipe that Dalmar had seen last night when they met upon the roadway. He reached into a small bag of tobacco, pinched a lump of it between his fingers nad thumb, and dropped it into the bell at the end of the pipe. Packing it tightly, he produced a tiny sliver of paper wrapped around a glass bell which he quickly struck on the side of his armored leggings emitting a high-pitching ring. Broken from the strike, the sliver of paper erupted into flame as Lars lit his pipe and tossed the ember of paper aside. Lars relaxed as he drew in the sweet smoke, and Dalmar smiled as the scent wafted by his nose.
"You never did tell me how you got away from those four men in the mountains - the ones that chased you when we split up and met back on the road here." Dalmar said. Lars drew in a deep puff of smoke and blew it into the light breeze traveling along the road.
Smiling, the pipe dangling from his mouth and staring straight ahead, Lars said, "Nope. You're right, I did'nt."
Invino Veritas
4/22/12
EOF
Saturday, April 21, 2012
Map of the Kingdom of Altendon v1.0
This is merely a general map of the Kingdom. Gr'Valdth is only shown here as a reference point as is the arena of Sarat. The map is colorized denoting the types of general terrain. This isn't meant to be exact, but I thought perhaps it might help to bring perspective as there's a lot of directional reference I use throughout the story. I hope this helps. Also, note that this doesn't necessarily show everything by any means or stretch of the imagination.
Enjoy.
Invino Veritas
4/21/12
EOF
Enjoy.
Invino Veritas
4/21/12
EOF
Sunday, April 15, 2012
The Story of Dalmar: Full Circle
His eyes transfixed upon the gigantic sea of stars and night sky, Dalmar trotted in the flat valley between the two mountains. The steps of the horses seemed to bounce softly from tree to tree and rock to rock, allowing the sounds of the night to encroach upon the area around Dalmar. Dalmar's eyes scanned the vast open area between the three mountains that rose around him as he directed his horses into the wilderness where he and Lars divided their efforts. His eyes attempted to trace the ground below him as he rode, but no discernable signs of Lars' trifle could be found. Unbeknownst to Dalmar, a breeze had begun to blow through the ancient riverbed that he now found himself traveling, and his own discovery and senses told him that he would find no tracks tonight. Still, he kept riding toward the trees at the other side of the south mountain where the darkness overtook the land before him.
It was some time later when Dalmar came upon a small pool of water when he spied a lone horse sipping at the water and trotting aimlessly through the passage. Spotting him, the horse lazily walked towards Dalmar and his band of horses, joining them as if it recognized its brothers and sisters. Dalmar paused, looking over the newcomer and noting the rugged leather saddle that still adorned its back, Grabbing its reins, he twisted them in his hand and dismounted his own horse. Tying a solid knot with the the rest of the reins of the horses, he hopped back onto his horse and headed towards the treeline once again. Finally, after a while of solitude, Dalmar reached the edge of the shadow of a thin strip of forested land that crept up the east side of the mountain, and Dalmar made his way up the slope, skirting the edge of the forest until he eventually made it to the other side where he was able to spy the roadway below. He knew this road. It was the one that he and Lars rode in on before they were spotted. Dalmar was cautious as his eyes scanned hard and he peered intently to the west. A soft glow of firelight could be seen far in the distance signaling a campfire, and Dalmar knew this could only be where the line of armed horseman sat for the night. But he had no way of knowing whether or not the men who rode after Lars had rejoined them or not, and he wasn't about to approach them to find out. Even if the goddess was with him tonight, he was not about to tempt fate.
Looking at the four horses behind him, Dalmar turned his face back towards the moon which had moved across the sky and begun to wane. How long had he been traveling alone? Dalmar didn't know the answer to this strange question. He looked at the ground still bathed in ghostly moonlight, and then looked at the mass of horses around him. His travel down into the roadway again would make a large enough mass of shadow for someone to notice from a distance, especially if there were more scouts about. Dalmar dismounted once again and untied the reins of the horses from one another, hoping that they would begin to wander off. Dalmar waited, but the well trained horses stared at him expectantly. Dalmar raised himself up, throwing his hands in the hand with one set of reins in his hand. "Hyeah! Shoo!" Dalmar said briskly as he jumped about in the faces of the horses, careful not to sound off too loudly. The horses snorted and backed away from their new found master, uncertain of his intentions. But still the horses stayed close, watching Dalmar. Again, Dalmar charged the horses, jumping at them and slapping their haunches until they finally trampled back down the mountainside to the north and through the trees. Smiling to himself, Dalmar then mounted his own ride once again, and slowly entered the trees as he descended the mountainside.
The forest was dark as it forbade the moonlight to pierce its many branches and timbers. Dalmar's human eyes did little as his horse stumbled through the soft earth covered with foliage and fallen limbs. The silence was deafening, and the strange, precarious sounds of the denizens of the forest were unnerving. The eerie sounds of owls screeching into the blackest of night air and the occasional snaps of twigs caused the hairs on Dalmar's neck to stand upright. But still, Dalmar patted his horse, calming its nerves as they split the winding sea of branches and foliage. There was no path here, no signs of habitation, and the forest seemed to swallow everything that entered it. But eventually yielded the edge of the prairie beyond it, and Dalmar and his horse stepped out into the roadway that traveled north and south, the same road he and Lars had decided traveled to Gr'valdth.
Dalmar sighed a sigh or relief, deciding that the danger was over for now as he turned his horse south toward the fork. Dalmar scanned the tops of the dark tufts of grass swaying in the light breeze and darkened by the disappearance of the moon. The early morning was upon him, and his joints ached from fatigue and adventure. A swift gust of wind rose as a whiff of familiar scent struck him, and Dalmar's eyes lit up. His head swiveled on its shoulders looking in all directions around him as he paused his horse. Dalmar's eyes squinted, hoping to catch a glimpse of the source of the sweet smell that he couldn't quite placed yet caused him to be reminded on an indecipherable flash of memory. Then, suddenly, Dalmar heard the lazy beating of hooves in the distance before him. Dalmar peered intently once again as a figure came into view, completely shrouded in the blackness of the night but outlined in the afterglow of a moon that had dipped below the horizon. Nervously, Dalmar's mind warned him of chance encounters on a road in the middle of the night in an area of the world that he did not know, and he quickly moved his horse back into the cover of the trees. There, under the blanket of foliage, Dalmar watched as the horseman slowly trotted into view, his breathing slowed with the anticipation of both good and evil. But then the horseman stopped mere meters away from his own position, and the rider blew a puff of pipe smoke into the air as he leaned over the his steed's neck. "Well, Zeke, are you going to join me or are you going to sit there and try to take root like the rest of the trees?" the man asked. Dalmar smiled. Lars had rejoined him.
Dalmar's heart jumped in his chest as he kicked the horse in its side to enter the roadway once again, and he rode to greet his friend. "Lars!" Dalmar exclaimed. "Am I ever glad to see you...." Dalmar smiled as he joined Lars on the road, the stout dwarf pausing to take a puff from his long pipe. Lars looked Dalmar up and down before removing the pipe from his mouth and blowing a puff of smoke. Lars smiled.
"Glad to see you too, Zeke. Are you sure you weren't followed?" Lars asked, his eyes scanning the forest's edge.
"They'd have been a fool to try. That I am sure of, friend." Dalmar answered happily as he smiled.
"Good man." Lars said as he grinned and put the pipe back into his mouth to draw more smoke.
"How long have you been on the road here?" Dalmar asked.
"It was just before the moon disappeared that I began traveling this way. I had a suspicion that you'd enter from the trees in or around this spot. Looks like as if I was right." said Lars. "But let's not stand out here in the open. We can talk about all this sort of thing once we find a safe place to rest. Come on. North. Let's ride. We should be fine by morning." Lars gestured as he bade his horse to continue northward, Dalmar beside him. Each took a lazy gait, the fatigue coursing through their joints. "Tell me, Zeke, how did you get away?" Lars asked after a few minutes.
"We raced north until my own horse tossed me from its back and I had to stand and fight." Dalmar began.
"How many?" Lars beckoned.
"Six. How many for you?" Dalmar replied.
"In the beginning, ten. But in the end, four." Lars paused as he spied a footpath leading through the prairie's grass to the east. His eyes followed the small trail to the edge of the road and across to the treeline beside them. "There" Lars said, gesturing to the opening in the trees. "Let's find a spot in the trees to rest." Lars yawned as he tapped his pipe against his saddle, spilling its glowing contents out onto the ground. The two riders edged their mounts into the forest as the ground dipped below the road, and the smells of the forest hit Dalmar's nose once again. Soon, the two travelers spotted the remains of a campfire in a small, rounded space in the trees. The ground had been cleared and the soft earth was cool and dry. "Wait." Lars said as he peered through the forest around them. "This is far to auspicious." he said uneasily. Lars jumped down from his horse and stared at the ground as he paced the area. Noting a particular spot in the soft earth where a footprint had been pressed, Lars stood up and smiled. "We're in luck. They are bare feet. No signs of horse prints, either." Lars began to gather wood around the small glade as Dalmar dismounted and wrapped his horses reins around a young sapling. Within moments, the two men had before them a small, warm fire. Little was said for the rest of impending morning as it broke the sky. It took only a few moments for each of them to fall fast asleep, letting the strain of the previous night's events wash away like the dust before the first rain of autumn. It was there, in that forest, surrounded by the bare feet of ghosts and the guardians of the wood that the two warriors finally found peace for the moment.
Invino Veritas
4/15/12
EOF
It was some time later when Dalmar came upon a small pool of water when he spied a lone horse sipping at the water and trotting aimlessly through the passage. Spotting him, the horse lazily walked towards Dalmar and his band of horses, joining them as if it recognized its brothers and sisters. Dalmar paused, looking over the newcomer and noting the rugged leather saddle that still adorned its back, Grabbing its reins, he twisted them in his hand and dismounted his own horse. Tying a solid knot with the the rest of the reins of the horses, he hopped back onto his horse and headed towards the treeline once again. Finally, after a while of solitude, Dalmar reached the edge of the shadow of a thin strip of forested land that crept up the east side of the mountain, and Dalmar made his way up the slope, skirting the edge of the forest until he eventually made it to the other side where he was able to spy the roadway below. He knew this road. It was the one that he and Lars rode in on before they were spotted. Dalmar was cautious as his eyes scanned hard and he peered intently to the west. A soft glow of firelight could be seen far in the distance signaling a campfire, and Dalmar knew this could only be where the line of armed horseman sat for the night. But he had no way of knowing whether or not the men who rode after Lars had rejoined them or not, and he wasn't about to approach them to find out. Even if the goddess was with him tonight, he was not about to tempt fate.
Looking at the four horses behind him, Dalmar turned his face back towards the moon which had moved across the sky and begun to wane. How long had he been traveling alone? Dalmar didn't know the answer to this strange question. He looked at the ground still bathed in ghostly moonlight, and then looked at the mass of horses around him. His travel down into the roadway again would make a large enough mass of shadow for someone to notice from a distance, especially if there were more scouts about. Dalmar dismounted once again and untied the reins of the horses from one another, hoping that they would begin to wander off. Dalmar waited, but the well trained horses stared at him expectantly. Dalmar raised himself up, throwing his hands in the hand with one set of reins in his hand. "Hyeah! Shoo!" Dalmar said briskly as he jumped about in the faces of the horses, careful not to sound off too loudly. The horses snorted and backed away from their new found master, uncertain of his intentions. But still the horses stayed close, watching Dalmar. Again, Dalmar charged the horses, jumping at them and slapping their haunches until they finally trampled back down the mountainside to the north and through the trees. Smiling to himself, Dalmar then mounted his own ride once again, and slowly entered the trees as he descended the mountainside.
The forest was dark as it forbade the moonlight to pierce its many branches and timbers. Dalmar's human eyes did little as his horse stumbled through the soft earth covered with foliage and fallen limbs. The silence was deafening, and the strange, precarious sounds of the denizens of the forest were unnerving. The eerie sounds of owls screeching into the blackest of night air and the occasional snaps of twigs caused the hairs on Dalmar's neck to stand upright. But still, Dalmar patted his horse, calming its nerves as they split the winding sea of branches and foliage. There was no path here, no signs of habitation, and the forest seemed to swallow everything that entered it. But eventually yielded the edge of the prairie beyond it, and Dalmar and his horse stepped out into the roadway that traveled north and south, the same road he and Lars had decided traveled to Gr'valdth.
Dalmar sighed a sigh or relief, deciding that the danger was over for now as he turned his horse south toward the fork. Dalmar scanned the tops of the dark tufts of grass swaying in the light breeze and darkened by the disappearance of the moon. The early morning was upon him, and his joints ached from fatigue and adventure. A swift gust of wind rose as a whiff of familiar scent struck him, and Dalmar's eyes lit up. His head swiveled on its shoulders looking in all directions around him as he paused his horse. Dalmar's eyes squinted, hoping to catch a glimpse of the source of the sweet smell that he couldn't quite placed yet caused him to be reminded on an indecipherable flash of memory. Then, suddenly, Dalmar heard the lazy beating of hooves in the distance before him. Dalmar peered intently once again as a figure came into view, completely shrouded in the blackness of the night but outlined in the afterglow of a moon that had dipped below the horizon. Nervously, Dalmar's mind warned him of chance encounters on a road in the middle of the night in an area of the world that he did not know, and he quickly moved his horse back into the cover of the trees. There, under the blanket of foliage, Dalmar watched as the horseman slowly trotted into view, his breathing slowed with the anticipation of both good and evil. But then the horseman stopped mere meters away from his own position, and the rider blew a puff of pipe smoke into the air as he leaned over the his steed's neck. "Well, Zeke, are you going to join me or are you going to sit there and try to take root like the rest of the trees?" the man asked. Dalmar smiled. Lars had rejoined him.
Dalmar's heart jumped in his chest as he kicked the horse in its side to enter the roadway once again, and he rode to greet his friend. "Lars!" Dalmar exclaimed. "Am I ever glad to see you...." Dalmar smiled as he joined Lars on the road, the stout dwarf pausing to take a puff from his long pipe. Lars looked Dalmar up and down before removing the pipe from his mouth and blowing a puff of smoke. Lars smiled.
"Glad to see you too, Zeke. Are you sure you weren't followed?" Lars asked, his eyes scanning the forest's edge.
"They'd have been a fool to try. That I am sure of, friend." Dalmar answered happily as he smiled.
"Good man." Lars said as he grinned and put the pipe back into his mouth to draw more smoke.
"How long have you been on the road here?" Dalmar asked.
"It was just before the moon disappeared that I began traveling this way. I had a suspicion that you'd enter from the trees in or around this spot. Looks like as if I was right." said Lars. "But let's not stand out here in the open. We can talk about all this sort of thing once we find a safe place to rest. Come on. North. Let's ride. We should be fine by morning." Lars gestured as he bade his horse to continue northward, Dalmar beside him. Each took a lazy gait, the fatigue coursing through their joints. "Tell me, Zeke, how did you get away?" Lars asked after a few minutes.
"We raced north until my own horse tossed me from its back and I had to stand and fight." Dalmar began.
"How many?" Lars beckoned.
"Six. How many for you?" Dalmar replied.
"In the beginning, ten. But in the end, four." Lars paused as he spied a footpath leading through the prairie's grass to the east. His eyes followed the small trail to the edge of the road and across to the treeline beside them. "There" Lars said, gesturing to the opening in the trees. "Let's find a spot in the trees to rest." Lars yawned as he tapped his pipe against his saddle, spilling its glowing contents out onto the ground. The two riders edged their mounts into the forest as the ground dipped below the road, and the smells of the forest hit Dalmar's nose once again. Soon, the two travelers spotted the remains of a campfire in a small, rounded space in the trees. The ground had been cleared and the soft earth was cool and dry. "Wait." Lars said as he peered through the forest around them. "This is far to auspicious." he said uneasily. Lars jumped down from his horse and stared at the ground as he paced the area. Noting a particular spot in the soft earth where a footprint had been pressed, Lars stood up and smiled. "We're in luck. They are bare feet. No signs of horse prints, either." Lars began to gather wood around the small glade as Dalmar dismounted and wrapped his horses reins around a young sapling. Within moments, the two men had before them a small, warm fire. Little was said for the rest of impending morning as it broke the sky. It took only a few moments for each of them to fall fast asleep, letting the strain of the previous night's events wash away like the dust before the first rain of autumn. It was there, in that forest, surrounded by the bare feet of ghosts and the guardians of the wood that the two warriors finally found peace for the moment.
Invino Veritas
4/15/12
EOF
Sunday, April 8, 2012
The Story of Dalmar: Avatar of the Moon
It had been almost three hours since Dalmar and Lars had entered the wide expanse of the rolling hillsides that traversed the open plains of the Edran landscape when the sun began its descent towards the tops of the mountains in the distance. Throughout the day thusfar, the men had seen no person. Only the occasional low flying birds rising and falling above the tops of the swaying grasses and the chance spotting of a fox chasing after a mouse or rabbit had caught their eyes. Strangely, the world seemed to be hiding from these two warriors as if their disguise was not enough to hide their nature. Each of them found it odd that such a path engraved into the ground here should bear no travelers. Once a common route to the west of Altendon, this roadway was no longer as well traveled. Dalmar gave it little thought, but Lars, having lived in Altendon, had seen the days when travel was more common through this part of the world. But over the years, it was apparent there was more influence upon the road by the Crimson Reign. Making contact with the first peak of the mountains, the sun began to dip towards darkness as they finally reached the other side. The first two mountains began to rise to either side of the pathway striking a memory into Dalmar's mind, and he stopped his horse for a moment.
"Through that pass there a little ways is where I came through." Dalmar said, pointing along the rocky pathway leading to the west. "But I don't recall this road leading to the north around the treeline here and around the base of this rise."
"I would imagine that is the way to G'rvaldth." Lars said.
"G'rvaldth ?" Dalmar asked.
"It's a settlement that lies over the ridge there some two days ride along a winding path to the edge of the great desert where a number of springs rush down from the mountains. They say that once it served as a great trading post and stop between those traveling between Glorsheim and Edra." Lars smiled as he scanned the area. He became a bit agitated as he knew it was not wise, given their mission, to sit still in the middle of the pathway. Dalmar's line of sight moved back and forth between the two pathways now.
"Well, I know what's that way" Dalmar said pointing along the familiar westward roadway. "But it may not be such a bad idea to check out what's going on towards G'rvaldth. That sounds like the likely spot that we could find Lanthis."
"Aye..." Lars agreed. "But we shouldn't distract ourselves from the constraints of our mission, Zeke. Let's just scout the known pathway for now. Who knows? We may find another route to G'rvaldth." Dalmar looked at Lars and nodded. Lars saw the disappointment in Dalmar's eyes and his reluctance to agree. He knew the man was anxious to find his friend, and he understood as he had understood the bond between he and his own brother many times before. Lars understood that the bonds between this warrior and his companion were as brothers, and he respected that sense of family.
As he rode slightly behind his companion, Lars began to feel aware of another presence. His sixth sense began to tingle as the shadows of the mountainside began to close in around he and Dalmar, and he scanned more intently the slopes to either side. The sun was quickly closing on the edge of the world and soon it would be night. Dalmar seemed unaware of this mysterious presence, and he sped his horse and brought it beside Dalmar's horse.
"Don't look now, but I think we're being watched, Zeke." Lars said in a low voice. Instinctively, Dalmar turned his head to look at Lars, and then snapped back in a forward gaze.
"Who do you think it is, Lars?" Dalmar said, matching Lars' tone.
"Hard to say. Could be them, or it could be someone else." Lars replied. At that moment, a sound broke the strange silence of the impending evening. Trickling down the side of the south mountainside was a single rock as each of the riders turned to follow it tumbling into the roadway from above. The two men stopped and scanned the rocks above once more, their senses fully aware now. Each of the adventurers listened with eager intensity. The cool breeze blew across their ears, and the howl of a wolf far in the distance sounded out to its brethren. They heard nothing until Lars sat up straight in his saddle. In the distance, the keen dwarven ears caught the faint sounds of travelers to the west. "Riders. Coming this way. Get off the road, Zeke. This way!" Lars nervously turned his horse towards the north and forced his steed up the side of the looming mountain as Dalmar followed suit. A barrage of rubble loosened itself down the side of the mountain where their mounts dug into the hard ground and lifted their riders above the roadway. Lars peered ahead of their horses looking for a suitable place for them to cover themselves in the shadows of the mountains finding a small flat area hidden from view. "There!" Lars blurted as he jostled in his saddle. Dalmar looked and turned his horse towards the wide ledge jutting out from the mountain's side.
The two horses broke the edge of the strange rocky overlook as the shadow of the mountain's peak began to blanket them in the darkness of the descending dusk. Lars jumped down from his horse and grasped his horse by the mane and behind the shoulder, softly consoling the confused beast until his horse was resting. "Zeke, lay your horse down!" Lars furiously charged Dalmar. Dalmar looked at Lars with a bewildered stare, amazed at the dwarf's skills with his horse and unable to comply with Lars' request. "Zeke, talk it down, man. Grab it by the mane and shoulder, and force it down calmly like I did." Lars scanned the roadway below as he peered over the edge of the flat space in the mountainside. A cloud of dust had risen about the rocky path below as a line of horses began to move into the scene below. Two by two, a stream of proud men stood high on the back of their mounts, each adorning an array of swords, hammers, and axes. They bore no symbols, no insignia, but one: each bore a crimson sash about their waists.Lars' attention turned toward Dalmar who had most inelegantly forced his own horse to a laying position. The horse grunted and whinnied. Lars turned his head toward the column of men trotting through the pass as he sight was distracted by three men running down the side of the opposite mountain to greet their captain. The column slowed and eventually halted, gathering around their leader as he greeted his scouts.
Lars knew, at this moment, what those scouts had seen as he peered upon the conversations below. The scouts stood below the proudly sitting man above them as they gestured about the mountains. With one quick movement of the lead scouts arms, he pointed in the direction of Lars and Dalmar. Lars' heart jumped in his chest as tne leader's head swiveled to look in their direction. "We've been found out, Zeke. Run!" LArs grabbed his horse as it sprang to its feet, shaking its mane and snorting. Dalmar sprung to his feet as his horse did the same, and the two riders vaulted onto the back of their horses. Following suit, several riders from below plowed into the hard earth as a plume of dust and rock sprayed into the air from underneath their trampling hooves. Lars and Dalmar dared not look behind them as they trudged furiously over the terrain, not paying attention to the direction in which they rode. Their only concern was to escape.
The nervous gait of the two horses echoed the flight of their riders as they rounded the side of the mountain to the west and followed the line of the rocky slopes to the north and down the other side. The sounds of twenty riders in the near distance rumbled in their ears alongside the trouncing hooves of their own steeds as the entered into the northern pass beyond the road that they once comfortably traveled. The rocks and the trees were a blur to both Dalmar and Lars as they lowered their bodies against the undulating backs of their mounts. The frightened beasts seemed to soar over the ground, and Dalmar wondered if even his strength would be enough to keep him firmly seated. He turned quickly to look behind him, catching only a few riders amongst the trails of dust and growing darkness. Quickly, he peered at the sky. Night was upon them, and he knew at that moment that the shadow and cover of night would be their salvation if only they could gain some distance. "It's getting dark! We've got to find some cover!" shouted Dalmar to his friend. "Somewhere dark!"
"Split up! I'll meet you at the fork to G'valdth!" Lars shouted as he pulled the reins of his horse to the south around the base of the mountain. Dalmar sharply pulled the reins of his snorting beast to the north along the other mountain before him, never looking back until he had traversed the strange terrain. Like two dusty rivers of dirt and downdrafts, the two adventurers divided the attention of their enemy. Then, without warning, Dalmar's horse began to slow and his horse began to fight at the reins. The equine raised its two front hooves in the air and complained at the fury of its rider, its body shining with the sweat of hard riding. The horse couldn't take anymore of this hard riding and began to fight against its master. Dalmar, trying to keep his balance on the back of the scared horse, eventually lost his fight with the huge animal and was thrown from its back, landing with a dusty thud in the hard, uncaring earth. Dalmar took a large breath as his lungs filled back with air from being forced out as he hit the ground. He looked up spying six men barreling down upon him. Dalmar drew his swords as he hoisted himself to his feet only to see his own horse running off into the distance. Six men. This was better odds, and Dalmar knew it.
The rage of battles once known coarsed through Dalmar's body as he turned to meet his assailants. As the first horse screeched to a halt before him, five other men closely behind, Dalmar rushed the front of the horse causing it to rear up in the air. Its rider, flailing, fell backwards with a hard drop to the ground. Dalmar rounded the body of the scared horse and quickly plunged his sword through the breast of the first man. At first, rage seethed through the man's eyes, but quickly turned to shock as the blade slid through his heart and his eyes closed. But as he pulled his blade from the lifeless body, the body of the next horseman struck Dalmar sending his body tumbling over the ground. Dalmar rolled over on his stomach, shaking the momentary disorientation from his vision. Again, Dalmar's own will raised him to his feet with renewed vigor and rage as he clenched the hilts of his swords and threw his body against the offending rider's horse. With all of Dalmar's strength and fury, the horse lifted off the ground sending it and its rider into the air, rolling and tumbling on its back as the weight of the beast crushed the life out of the wearer of the red sash. This unfathomable act startled the remaining four riders as Dalmar belted out a loud roar escaping from his lungs like a ravenous beast. The horses jostled in their steps as one of the riders shouted, "Trample him down, boys!" The riders kicked his steed in its side as the beast bolted in Dalmar's direction. One by one they all sent their horses towards Dalmar. And then everything slowed down.
Dalmar saw the breasts of two horses rushing towards him, two more behind them waiting for their turn to take down this fierce warrior before them. Raising his two blade before him, Dalmar stood his ground. With two gestures in unison, Dalmar flicked each wrist, placing his mighty strength behind each toss, and sent the two blades tumbling through the air as, one by one, each pierced the bodies of the first two riders who wished to trample their foe before them. Dalmar spun on his foot as the two horses passed to either side of his body, their saddles scraping his chest as they ran past. The momentum of his spin carried his body around as he once again, faced the remaining two enemies closely behind the first two. Dalmar, raising his arms into the air, grabbed each one by the throat and hurled them onto the ground as their bodies left the backs of their horses. He slammed them to the earth where at once they were both stunned. Dalmar quickly pounced upon one of the men who struggled without breath, coughing and spewing a filth of language, spit, and blood as Dalmar reared back with a mighty fist. Then time returned as normal, and the warrior's gigantic fist thrust forward like the hammer of a god struck the man in his face, caving in the cheek and popping out his eyes to roll across the dusty ground. Smartly, Dalmar stood up and faced his other opponent. The fire in his soul raged, and he saw only the color of battle and the enemy before him. The man had rolled over to his belly, and soon began to crawl furiously away from the god of war before him. Nervously, the man made it to his feet and began to run away from the screaming wildly. Dalmar stood still, his eyes lowered and staring an invisible lightning bolt through the back of the scared man running off in the distance. Dalmar breathed. His body rose and fell like the breath of dragons and eventually calmed as the mountainscape returned to full view. Dalmar was now alone. Again.
Dalmar tried to remember how he had found his way to this spot. His mind traced the furious ride, and it wasn't long before he pieced the events together as they had happened. Where Dalmar once had one horse, he now had three. Three horses had escaped the scene shortly after their riders had left their backs including his own. Dalmar retrieved his own blades from the oozing bodies of the Crimson Reign, and gathered the horses together, stringing them in line by their reins. He had to find Lars. Lars said they would meet back at the fork before they entered the mountains. Conveniently, if Dalmar's sense of direction hadn't suffered a blow, that fork would eventually be found by continuing in the opposite direction to which he entered this valley and to the east a little bit. Dalmar hopped onto his horse, the beast unwary of its new rider. The horse whinnied and moved uneasily back and forth in place as it became accustomed to the new weight of its new companion. It would be a good idea to find some water and get these horses rested before traveling to the beginning of this mountain range he thought. The horses were nervous and still traumatized from the recent ordeal, and they wouldn't be much help if they did not trust him. Dalmar knew this, and he looked at the mountains before him looking for some water. Thinking of this, Dalmar, himself, had a powerful thirst as well.
Dalmar turned the horses to the south through the valley between the two mountains where he eventually found a stream of water to the east. The sounds of civilization and riding men had long been forgotten as the night progressed. He wondered if Lars was able to escape and if he made it to the fork. He would figure that out in due time, he thought. But his own horse would have certainly grown tired as his did, too. It was likely he would have had to stand his ground as well, and there were plenty of men for him to fight as Dalmar had. Dalmar tried to stay positive as he scooped the cool mountain water into his hands and drizzled it on his head. After a few moments and feeling refreshed, he mounted the captured horse and began trotting to the southeast around the mountain's base. The day had been long and he had gotten himself into more adventure than he wanted, but the cool night breeze gave him no comfort in the thought of bedding down for the night. He had a friend out there that might need his help. He had already lost touch with one friend. He was not about to abandon Lars now - even at the expense of his own well being. Dalmar trotted lazily through the mountain pass and looked up at the stars that were now fully visible. No clouds hung in the sky. Nothing covered the moon which now hung like a great crystal orb in the heavens. Now was the time when the goddess of the moon peered down on the earth of men, giving this avatar of mankind a moment of peace before returning to the good fight. It was then, as he was struck with the awe of the universe and the strange way that his destiny was unfolding, he remembered. He remembered the goddess, who had come down to bless him that evening - an evening not unlike this same evening - with the same sort of scene. The memory was one of a giant moon and a sky filled full of stars. At that moment, Dalmar smiled, and he knew that the goddess was with him.
Invino Veritas
4/8/12
EOF
"Through that pass there a little ways is where I came through." Dalmar said, pointing along the rocky pathway leading to the west. "But I don't recall this road leading to the north around the treeline here and around the base of this rise."
"I would imagine that is the way to G'rvaldth." Lars said.
"G'rvaldth ?" Dalmar asked.
"It's a settlement that lies over the ridge there some two days ride along a winding path to the edge of the great desert where a number of springs rush down from the mountains. They say that once it served as a great trading post and stop between those traveling between Glorsheim and Edra." Lars smiled as he scanned the area. He became a bit agitated as he knew it was not wise, given their mission, to sit still in the middle of the pathway. Dalmar's line of sight moved back and forth between the two pathways now.
"Well, I know what's that way" Dalmar said pointing along the familiar westward roadway. "But it may not be such a bad idea to check out what's going on towards G'rvaldth. That sounds like the likely spot that we could find Lanthis."
"Aye..." Lars agreed. "But we shouldn't distract ourselves from the constraints of our mission, Zeke. Let's just scout the known pathway for now. Who knows? We may find another route to G'rvaldth." Dalmar looked at Lars and nodded. Lars saw the disappointment in Dalmar's eyes and his reluctance to agree. He knew the man was anxious to find his friend, and he understood as he had understood the bond between he and his own brother many times before. Lars understood that the bonds between this warrior and his companion were as brothers, and he respected that sense of family.
As he rode slightly behind his companion, Lars began to feel aware of another presence. His sixth sense began to tingle as the shadows of the mountainside began to close in around he and Dalmar, and he scanned more intently the slopes to either side. The sun was quickly closing on the edge of the world and soon it would be night. Dalmar seemed unaware of this mysterious presence, and he sped his horse and brought it beside Dalmar's horse.
"Don't look now, but I think we're being watched, Zeke." Lars said in a low voice. Instinctively, Dalmar turned his head to look at Lars, and then snapped back in a forward gaze.
"Who do you think it is, Lars?" Dalmar said, matching Lars' tone.
"Hard to say. Could be them, or it could be someone else." Lars replied. At that moment, a sound broke the strange silence of the impending evening. Trickling down the side of the south mountainside was a single rock as each of the riders turned to follow it tumbling into the roadway from above. The two men stopped and scanned the rocks above once more, their senses fully aware now. Each of the adventurers listened with eager intensity. The cool breeze blew across their ears, and the howl of a wolf far in the distance sounded out to its brethren. They heard nothing until Lars sat up straight in his saddle. In the distance, the keen dwarven ears caught the faint sounds of travelers to the west. "Riders. Coming this way. Get off the road, Zeke. This way!" Lars nervously turned his horse towards the north and forced his steed up the side of the looming mountain as Dalmar followed suit. A barrage of rubble loosened itself down the side of the mountain where their mounts dug into the hard ground and lifted their riders above the roadway. Lars peered ahead of their horses looking for a suitable place for them to cover themselves in the shadows of the mountains finding a small flat area hidden from view. "There!" Lars blurted as he jostled in his saddle. Dalmar looked and turned his horse towards the wide ledge jutting out from the mountain's side.
The two horses broke the edge of the strange rocky overlook as the shadow of the mountain's peak began to blanket them in the darkness of the descending dusk. Lars jumped down from his horse and grasped his horse by the mane and behind the shoulder, softly consoling the confused beast until his horse was resting. "Zeke, lay your horse down!" Lars furiously charged Dalmar. Dalmar looked at Lars with a bewildered stare, amazed at the dwarf's skills with his horse and unable to comply with Lars' request. "Zeke, talk it down, man. Grab it by the mane and shoulder, and force it down calmly like I did." Lars scanned the roadway below as he peered over the edge of the flat space in the mountainside. A cloud of dust had risen about the rocky path below as a line of horses began to move into the scene below. Two by two, a stream of proud men stood high on the back of their mounts, each adorning an array of swords, hammers, and axes. They bore no symbols, no insignia, but one: each bore a crimson sash about their waists.Lars' attention turned toward Dalmar who had most inelegantly forced his own horse to a laying position. The horse grunted and whinnied. Lars turned his head toward the column of men trotting through the pass as he sight was distracted by three men running down the side of the opposite mountain to greet their captain. The column slowed and eventually halted, gathering around their leader as he greeted his scouts.
Lars knew, at this moment, what those scouts had seen as he peered upon the conversations below. The scouts stood below the proudly sitting man above them as they gestured about the mountains. With one quick movement of the lead scouts arms, he pointed in the direction of Lars and Dalmar. Lars' heart jumped in his chest as tne leader's head swiveled to look in their direction. "We've been found out, Zeke. Run!" LArs grabbed his horse as it sprang to its feet, shaking its mane and snorting. Dalmar sprung to his feet as his horse did the same, and the two riders vaulted onto the back of their horses. Following suit, several riders from below plowed into the hard earth as a plume of dust and rock sprayed into the air from underneath their trampling hooves. Lars and Dalmar dared not look behind them as they trudged furiously over the terrain, not paying attention to the direction in which they rode. Their only concern was to escape.
The nervous gait of the two horses echoed the flight of their riders as they rounded the side of the mountain to the west and followed the line of the rocky slopes to the north and down the other side. The sounds of twenty riders in the near distance rumbled in their ears alongside the trouncing hooves of their own steeds as the entered into the northern pass beyond the road that they once comfortably traveled. The rocks and the trees were a blur to both Dalmar and Lars as they lowered their bodies against the undulating backs of their mounts. The frightened beasts seemed to soar over the ground, and Dalmar wondered if even his strength would be enough to keep him firmly seated. He turned quickly to look behind him, catching only a few riders amongst the trails of dust and growing darkness. Quickly, he peered at the sky. Night was upon them, and he knew at that moment that the shadow and cover of night would be their salvation if only they could gain some distance. "It's getting dark! We've got to find some cover!" shouted Dalmar to his friend. "Somewhere dark!"
"Split up! I'll meet you at the fork to G'valdth!" Lars shouted as he pulled the reins of his horse to the south around the base of the mountain. Dalmar sharply pulled the reins of his snorting beast to the north along the other mountain before him, never looking back until he had traversed the strange terrain. Like two dusty rivers of dirt and downdrafts, the two adventurers divided the attention of their enemy. Then, without warning, Dalmar's horse began to slow and his horse began to fight at the reins. The equine raised its two front hooves in the air and complained at the fury of its rider, its body shining with the sweat of hard riding. The horse couldn't take anymore of this hard riding and began to fight against its master. Dalmar, trying to keep his balance on the back of the scared horse, eventually lost his fight with the huge animal and was thrown from its back, landing with a dusty thud in the hard, uncaring earth. Dalmar took a large breath as his lungs filled back with air from being forced out as he hit the ground. He looked up spying six men barreling down upon him. Dalmar drew his swords as he hoisted himself to his feet only to see his own horse running off into the distance. Six men. This was better odds, and Dalmar knew it.
The rage of battles once known coarsed through Dalmar's body as he turned to meet his assailants. As the first horse screeched to a halt before him, five other men closely behind, Dalmar rushed the front of the horse causing it to rear up in the air. Its rider, flailing, fell backwards with a hard drop to the ground. Dalmar rounded the body of the scared horse and quickly plunged his sword through the breast of the first man. At first, rage seethed through the man's eyes, but quickly turned to shock as the blade slid through his heart and his eyes closed. But as he pulled his blade from the lifeless body, the body of the next horseman struck Dalmar sending his body tumbling over the ground. Dalmar rolled over on his stomach, shaking the momentary disorientation from his vision. Again, Dalmar's own will raised him to his feet with renewed vigor and rage as he clenched the hilts of his swords and threw his body against the offending rider's horse. With all of Dalmar's strength and fury, the horse lifted off the ground sending it and its rider into the air, rolling and tumbling on its back as the weight of the beast crushed the life out of the wearer of the red sash. This unfathomable act startled the remaining four riders as Dalmar belted out a loud roar escaping from his lungs like a ravenous beast. The horses jostled in their steps as one of the riders shouted, "Trample him down, boys!" The riders kicked his steed in its side as the beast bolted in Dalmar's direction. One by one they all sent their horses towards Dalmar. And then everything slowed down.
Dalmar saw the breasts of two horses rushing towards him, two more behind them waiting for their turn to take down this fierce warrior before them. Raising his two blade before him, Dalmar stood his ground. With two gestures in unison, Dalmar flicked each wrist, placing his mighty strength behind each toss, and sent the two blades tumbling through the air as, one by one, each pierced the bodies of the first two riders who wished to trample their foe before them. Dalmar spun on his foot as the two horses passed to either side of his body, their saddles scraping his chest as they ran past. The momentum of his spin carried his body around as he once again, faced the remaining two enemies closely behind the first two. Dalmar, raising his arms into the air, grabbed each one by the throat and hurled them onto the ground as their bodies left the backs of their horses. He slammed them to the earth where at once they were both stunned. Dalmar quickly pounced upon one of the men who struggled without breath, coughing and spewing a filth of language, spit, and blood as Dalmar reared back with a mighty fist. Then time returned as normal, and the warrior's gigantic fist thrust forward like the hammer of a god struck the man in his face, caving in the cheek and popping out his eyes to roll across the dusty ground. Smartly, Dalmar stood up and faced his other opponent. The fire in his soul raged, and he saw only the color of battle and the enemy before him. The man had rolled over to his belly, and soon began to crawl furiously away from the god of war before him. Nervously, the man made it to his feet and began to run away from the screaming wildly. Dalmar stood still, his eyes lowered and staring an invisible lightning bolt through the back of the scared man running off in the distance. Dalmar breathed. His body rose and fell like the breath of dragons and eventually calmed as the mountainscape returned to full view. Dalmar was now alone. Again.
Dalmar tried to remember how he had found his way to this spot. His mind traced the furious ride, and it wasn't long before he pieced the events together as they had happened. Where Dalmar once had one horse, he now had three. Three horses had escaped the scene shortly after their riders had left their backs including his own. Dalmar retrieved his own blades from the oozing bodies of the Crimson Reign, and gathered the horses together, stringing them in line by their reins. He had to find Lars. Lars said they would meet back at the fork before they entered the mountains. Conveniently, if Dalmar's sense of direction hadn't suffered a blow, that fork would eventually be found by continuing in the opposite direction to which he entered this valley and to the east a little bit. Dalmar hopped onto his horse, the beast unwary of its new rider. The horse whinnied and moved uneasily back and forth in place as it became accustomed to the new weight of its new companion. It would be a good idea to find some water and get these horses rested before traveling to the beginning of this mountain range he thought. The horses were nervous and still traumatized from the recent ordeal, and they wouldn't be much help if they did not trust him. Dalmar knew this, and he looked at the mountains before him looking for some water. Thinking of this, Dalmar, himself, had a powerful thirst as well.
Dalmar turned the horses to the south through the valley between the two mountains where he eventually found a stream of water to the east. The sounds of civilization and riding men had long been forgotten as the night progressed. He wondered if Lars was able to escape and if he made it to the fork. He would figure that out in due time, he thought. But his own horse would have certainly grown tired as his did, too. It was likely he would have had to stand his ground as well, and there were plenty of men for him to fight as Dalmar had. Dalmar tried to stay positive as he scooped the cool mountain water into his hands and drizzled it on his head. After a few moments and feeling refreshed, he mounted the captured horse and began trotting to the southeast around the mountain's base. The day had been long and he had gotten himself into more adventure than he wanted, but the cool night breeze gave him no comfort in the thought of bedding down for the night. He had a friend out there that might need his help. He had already lost touch with one friend. He was not about to abandon Lars now - even at the expense of his own well being. Dalmar trotted lazily through the mountain pass and looked up at the stars that were now fully visible. No clouds hung in the sky. Nothing covered the moon which now hung like a great crystal orb in the heavens. Now was the time when the goddess of the moon peered down on the earth of men, giving this avatar of mankind a moment of peace before returning to the good fight. It was then, as he was struck with the awe of the universe and the strange way that his destiny was unfolding, he remembered. He remembered the goddess, who had come down to bless him that evening - an evening not unlike this same evening - with the same sort of scene. The memory was one of a giant moon and a sky filled full of stars. At that moment, Dalmar smiled, and he knew that the goddess was with him.
Invino Veritas
4/8/12
EOF
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