Torroth’s mind wandered now as he thought about his lot in life. A fugitive on the run. Not really running. The people that mattered all thought him dead years ago. It wasn’t so bad though. He had agreeable company and a quest to occupy him. An impossible quest however he didn’t see boredom in his immediate future as he toiled. Having something to do was important. It was when he was idle and alone that thoughts of his lost brother surfaced. It had been years since that fateful night but he had lost his twin and felt diminished by Morden’s death.
In this manner they spent the next days traversing the midlands. Inadar alternated chatting and being silent. Torroth daydreamed and hunted. Inadar practiced her archery and fighting skills. The days crept by neither faster than nor slower than the one before.
Shienhin was only just raising its walls and towers above the line of the horizon when the duo took the road labeled to the outlands. Hardly half a day passed before the air took on a new salty smell. It was a bit more humid and had a chill at night north of the Garoche Mountains. Inadar was astonished when she saw the silent sea for the first time. Up till then the largest body of water she had seen was Lake Cerveza. Even then the Garoche could be seen on the other side but this was so much bigger. The concept that so much water could exist had never occurred to her.
Continuing their journey they found the road leading back towards the western slopes of the Garoche Mountains. This side was treated to frequent rains and was a different kind of green. The trees were bigger and new wildlife was always being discovered by Inadar. She and Torroth found game to plentiful. They didn’t want for sustenance. Water could be found in any of the myriad streams that flowed off the Garoche glaciers high on the slopes.
The party decided to leave the main road and stick to the Garoche Mountains when they narrowly avoided walking into a party of soldiers escorting wagons loaded with dried fish. The wild forests gave one the impression that everything was tranquil. Inadar could have lived her life in the wilderness content to forget that the world was a dangerous place.
They were near the edge of a large forest one day on their journey. They had already managed to pass through a couple villages without incident. Inadar hadn’t detected anything out of the ordinary so they had moved on. Now they were headed to a small trapping community that they had heard about living on the higher slopes of the Garoche.
“Halt!” Both Inadar and Torroth nearly jumped out of their skins when the command was shouted from a nearby stand of scrubby brush.
“Identify yourself!” Another order was shouted as they looked around in confusion. Following the order a soldier carrying a bow appeared from the vegetation.
“We are just travelers.” Torroth held his hands out reassuringly.
“The road is just inland of the coast. What are you doing up here?” The suspicious soldier questioned.
“Just seeing the sights. I haven’t ever been on this side of the Garoche Mountains before and wanted to see the scenery.” Inadar offered an excuse as she glanced at Torroth who had a worried look.
“I don’t believe you. You were headed right for our camp.” The soldier moved closer while still keeping the arrow notched.
“I can’t help that. Like she said, we were just enjoying the scenery.”
“I don’t care. Now move it!” The soldier motioned towards an opening in the underbrush. Inadar gave Torroth another glance. This time he nodded towards his hands and the soldier. She understood that he meant to attack as soon as practical and that she should be ready. The soldier directed them into the trail and followed a couple feet behind.
Torroth was between Inadar and the soldier. After glancing around and not seeing any other soldiers he braced off a rock in the trail and launched himself backwards into the surprised soldier. The pack took the brunt of the blow but the two of them went down in a tangle of flailing arms and legs. Torroth was quickly able to slip out of the pack and turn on the soldier while Inadar looked for an opportunity to help.
Inadar had her black fighting daggers drawn when she heard a breaking branch behind. She ducked and managed to sidestep another soldier as he crashed through the undergrowth. He was more agile than anticipated and had turned on Inadar by the time she had recovered from her narrow escape. He had a sword drawn and was at her swinging and chopping as best he could in the narrow confines of the trail. Inadar was not as limited by the space and either dodged or deflected each strike. The black steel sparked with each strike they took from the sword but didn’t seem to be damaged.
Inadar could hear Torroth struggling in the background as she made her finishing moves. A feint to the left to distract while putting all her weight into a swing with her right at the base of the sword. The heavy impact knocked the sword out of the man’s hand leaving him reaching for the sword as Inadar brought her knee up and slammed it into the soldier’s face. The soldier was senseless on the ground and Inadar was about to go help Torroth when a blow to the back of her head made lights flash before darkness overcame her.
When consciousness returned Inadar found herself tied to a chair in the dark. Struggling proved useless. The ropes were too tightly wound and knotted. She had just given up when light began flickering off the walls as the light from a torch approached. When Inadar could see her surroundings she discovered that she was in cave of sorts. The chamber she was in was piled with crates of supplies.
“Who are you? Answer truthfully. Your story should match your friend’s.” A ranking officer handed the torch to an accompanying soldier and settled onto a crate opposite Inadar.
“He isn’t just my friend. He is my brother.”
“Hmm, we will get to that.” The officer stroked his beard thoughtfully. “What time of year were you born?”
“The fall just before the winter snows started falling.” Inadar saw the officer frown.
“That is interesting. Your brother remembers you being born in the spring shortly after the flowers started blooming. One of you has a poor memory.”
“I was sort of adopted so he wasn’t really there.” Inadar realized what was happening.
“That much he admitted to so there is room to believe that he could have mistaken the time of your birth.” Inadar reflected on the fact that she didn’t really know the time of her birth. It couldn’t have been much before the dragons delivered her to the village but that was a detail that she didn’t much feel like explaining.
“Now let me see, what was your mother’s name?”
“Mytera.” This produced an approving nod from the officer.
“Who is Gastin’s mother?” Inadar was perplexed for a moment before she realized that Torroth was probably using an alias.
“I said that he was adopted so he didn’t like talking about his parent’s.” The officer frowned again and returned to stroking his beard.
“I thought that you were the one that was adopted.” Inadar hardly batted an eyelash at being caught in the inconsistency.
“I was adopted. My real parents abandoned me. Mytera raised me as her own. Gastin joined the family a few years later so we were both adopted.” Inadar remembered to use Torroth’s alias just before she was about to use his real name. The game she was playing was a tricky one. She had to make sure that she matched whatever Torroth was saying but didn’t add anything that she might regret later. She hoped that Torroth had stuck to the story that they had agreed upon before entering Cercha.
“Where was it you were raised?”
“In The Forks.”
“Which one? The river divides the city in three parts.” Inadar almost faltered as he asked a detail that hadn’t been in their discussions. She knew the road that they supposedly lived on but hadn’t thought to name a sector.
“Water front row, northern sector.” The officer simply grunted and stroked his beard. Inadar found that trying to read the man’s thoughtful face to be virtually impossible.
“I see... Which side?” Inadar quailed inside. Of course there were two water front rows in the north
ern sector. The river came down on both sides of that pie shaped wedge.
“The east side.” Inadar barely managed to make it sound like a statement rather than a question.
“Gastin told me that you two spent a lot of time working in different parts of the city so you really never were from one sector.”
“That is true. My parents were from the east side of the northern sector so I like to tell people that I am from there. It is usually easier to say that rather than explain that we moved all over.” Inadar coolly explained the dissimilarity in their stories.
“So you were raised by Mytera and Sjad for most of your life in the eastern part of the northern sector then after they died, you and Gastin moved around? Is that what you are saying?” The officer watched Inadar intently while she tried to think of a response. The officer’s reference to Sjad threw her for a loop. She wasn’t sure what to make of it. Had Torroth used an alias for Encer because he was worried that someone might recognize his name from his military past or was it a trick on the interrogator's part? She had thought long enough. Already there was a suspicious set to the officer’s jaw.
“Who is Sjad?” At Inadar’s response the officer’s jaw relaxed a little.
“No one of consequence. Why are you in the outlands?"
"Gaston is a blacksmith. We have been looking for a quiet place to settle where he can practice his trade." Inadar flinched as the officer frowned again.
"I'm afraid that your stories are a little different. We can’t let you go for the risk that you might betray us.” The officer stood to leave.
“Why would you be worried about that? You are the army. Who would I betray you to?”
“Come now. Don’t tell me you find it a little suspicious that so many soldiers are hiding in the forest in the outlands. Don’t worry. I'm just going to have you moved to more comfortable accommodations.”
"Are you refusing to let us go because you think our stories are inconsistent or because you are afraid that we might tell someone about you being here?"
"You seem to be smart enough of a girl. I'm sure that you will figure it out." The more comfortable accommodations turned out to be a chamber in the caves with two beds and a table. The beds were straw ticks that smelled of musk and felt damp to the touch. The door was barred on the other side. The bright side was that Torroth was delivered shortly after she had arrived and a torch was left for them by the door. After reassuring himself that she was alright he collapsed on one of the beds in a mood so bleak that nothing Inadar said was able to get through to him.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“So when we get to building my place, I want one of those water heating contraptions in the cooking area. It doesn’t have to be as fancy as that one you built for your mother. Just functional.” Taric had begun designing his future abode with the Granite Bane girl. Roild snorted in disdain.
“It was a work of art. It reduce it to mere functionality is to deny its true nature. Are it to be functional it takes up space but its true nature is to be something to be enjoyed as a work of art.” Roild dropped into a rant about one of his pet peeves.
“So it is alright for you to cover your walls with worthless art?” Taric admired Roild’s handiwork but had never seen a need for it.
“Worthless art! I want my children and grandchildren to look at it as be proud to say that their father or grandfather sculpted it. I want my second born to be proud when I give it to him at his wedding.” Roild could picture it in his head.
“Ridiculous. That is probably going to be a century at least.” Taric had his turn snorting in derision.
“I will have that long to perfect it.” Roild had that dreamy expression that meant he was thinking about Esteris.
“Hey lover boy, how is the human doing?” Taric called a halt while they checked.
“His pulse hasn’t changed much if any. His breathing is steady. Let’s see if I can get him to drink some more.” Roild carefully dripped water into the human’s mouth. A little at a time. Their attempts at giving food had been failures until Taric had hit on the idea of dissolving mushroom cakes in the water that they were giving the human. Remarkably despite the days of travel that the lad had endured he showed no signs of deterioration. In fact it seemed that some of the external injuries had actually healed somewhat.
“How long have we been traveling today?” Taric inquired as soon as they had finished checking on the human. Roild consulted his time keeping piece before responding that only half the day had passed and only twenty units since Taric had last asked.
“I wish that I had one of those. I wouldn’t need to ask you every twenty units.” Taric grumbled as Roild snapped the case closed. He had invented the device himself and attached it to the armor of his forearm. It consisted of a series of gears and a wound spring. The secondary gears had enough resistance in their movement and the gear ratios were such that they slowed the primary gear to a crawl. He found that if constantly held at certain tension it moved in a reliable pace. By designing a spring loaded release for the wound spring he was able to attach it to a joint in his armor rewinding it with every movement. The catch would release and lodge on the next tooth whenever the tension reached the maximum. Marks could be painted on the face of the larger gear for telling how many units of time passed. He had calibrated the marks to the water clocks back home and was able to use it to tell time in the caverns. The only problem was that it no longer retained its accuracy if it wasn’t charged every couple hundred units. This was a problem when Roild slept. Instead of waking to recharge it periodically he would set up a portable water clock then set his clock off that when he woke.
“I could make you one but I haven’t perfected this one yet. Until then just add twenty units to what time it was last time you had the urge to ask.” Roild responded to Taric’s complaint with a laugh. He already knew that the constant winding was more effort than his friend would be interested in maintaining once the novelty wore off.
“Whatever. We should get moving now. Don’t want to waste any of your precious units.” Taric prepared to do as he had recommended when he stiffened. “Do you see what I see?” Roild glanced up at Taric’s glowing armor then squinted at another light source he detected. Finally able to focus he was able to discern the outlined figure of an individual standing beside the litter.
“What is it?” Taric was staring at the slowly appearing apparition.
“How am I supposed to know?” Roild was finally able to discern some features and was startled to recognize the human’s face. Taric came to the same discovery a moment later.
“It’s him. Is this how humans die?” Taric was of the belief that the human’s life force was leaving the body. Roild slowly knelt down and checked for the human’s vital signs again.
“He is still alive. No change that I can detect. I don’t know what it is.” Roild noticed that the entity was looking down at the human with an expression akin to pity.
“It’s beautiful. So many colors.” The duo of dwarves watched as the apparition seemed to take on more substance. It was glowing but not brightly. No longer could they see through it easily. The features were more defined. The colors that Taric referred to were of most of the shades of a rainbow. They faintly could be seen shifting in the light. The effect was like looking through a gem at a light. Overall the figure looked like a shadow with substance but light instead of dark. Taric reached out and attempted to touch the lights with one hand. Roild started to stop him but watched in awe as Taric’s gauntleted hand simply passed through the lights disturbing them like an image reflected in water. The light reformed itself a moment later just before the being glanced up at them with a surprised expression.
“Gar'as? Enfar las encorum giansar.” Both dwarves were stunned by the audible words. They were spoken in the old language. Neither dwarf could converse in the old tongue that the over worlders used to speak. They had adopted the more common tongue before leaving the surface. Only a few scholars still spoke the old tongue.
>
“Gar’as is the old name for dwarf. That is all I can understand from what he said.” Roild found his wits after a period of silence following the creature’s words.
“Dwarf? Taric’s jaw hung for a second as he processed Roild’s statement. Before he had a chance to think of something coherent to say the entity simply began moving down the tunnel. When in motion all features disappeared and the thing looked more like a humanoid shaped glowing fog.
“Where is it going?” Taric still wore a stunned expression but now it was tempered with apprehension.
“I don’t know but I think it wants us to follow.” Roild motioned Taric to pick up his end of the litter. The marched behind the apparition that didn’t give any more recognition of their presence. The units of time crept by slowly as they marched in silence until Roild’s stomach began rumbling. He reached into the bag by his side before remembering that they had consumed the last of their food that morning. They had hoped to stumble across another patch of mushrooms during their travel to replenish their supplies.
“Wrathy spawn!” Both dwarves jumped at the unexpected exclamation. The apparition materialized from the glowing cloud of fog that they had been following. Roild was racking his brain in an attempt to translate the ancient words when a large cave spider dropped from the ceiling on the being. Hastily setting down the litter Taric freed one of his hammers and flung it with deadly precision at the spider that was snapping at the unconcerned apparition. Crushed by the blow the insect’s eight limbs twitched for a few moments before Taric severed them from the crushed body and retrieved his hammer. Roild swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. He knew what spider leg tasted like. It provided nutrition but was not a flavor that he relished. Seeing the legs twitching as Taric fastened them to his belt did nothing to improve his appetite.