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
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