Index:
Episode 1 - The League of Iron assembles
Episode 3 - Legacy of the Veil Breakers
Episode 7 - Home is where the hearth is
Episode 8 - Last of the Old Ones
Episode 12 - Mistress of Flesh
Episode 15 - March of the parasites
Episode 16 - Shadows in the Fog
Twilight.
Dusk's carmine light touched treetops, closed flower's petals, and reminded all critters that his sister Night was nearby. Chirping birds nabbed what seeds, fruits, or squirming bugs they still could and on swift wings flew back to their nests. Crawling, walking, and hopping, Mother Forest's land-bound denizens followed their avian fellows' example. Humming and meowing, they scurried back to their hallows, with their daily quarry held by paws or teeth.
Clad in a reddish haze and the gleam of steel, an intricate, thick wall of stone and metal coexisted with trees and shrubbery. Surrounded by a wide, deep, looking like a watery grave moat, these angled walls appeared nigh unassailable. Uniform and smooth, the masterfully cut stone blocks were laid in such way, they interlocked with one another. Tired from their daily shine, the sleepy sunrays couldn't find a crack, nor squeeze through gaps in the elaborate masonry.
Dutifully lugging the sun's last warmth for the day, many a handful of rays patted the helmeted heads of elven infantry, dwarven archers, and human knight alike. Patrolling the ramparts, these guards stood alert and had long since noticed when four of their brethren approached the walls. The roar of Elven horns greeted them when they marched across the lowered drawbridge, and the war-flutes of reindeer cavalry echoed in the distance as the fort's thick gates closed shut behind their backs.
A handful of warm sunrays gleamed like a fatherly smile upon the Four.
They returned the guards' salutes and, still tired from battle and lack of sleep, rested their legs before entering the fort proper.
“The fort's name is Reindeer's Rest, but I like to call it home!” - the noble Dwarf announced, hand shielding his eyes from the last sunrays.
“Finally!” - panted the Elf, and dropped a large bag full of various kinds of mushyrooms - “I know I asked you for these, but why so many? Even I can't run in full armor with a backpack full of supplies and... this...” - he nudged the bag with his boot - “What did you call it, a baeig?”
“It is called a duffel bag, Ainhart. Had my priestly friend worked on a construction site, he'd know about this, and many other carrying devices.” - Chuckled the Knight and patted Gelduin's tired shoulders.
“I'd wager one flagon of best halfling ale that our elven fellow was earning his keep by doing brainy labor. A scribe, mayhap?” - Gelduin elaborated, as he patted his coin purse.
“Smithing.” - Ainhart nodded at the fort's smithy and its long, bellowing black smoke chimney - “My grandpa taught me elven sword and armor smithing before he died.”
“My people forged these for your kin.” - said the Elf, and looked at the runed pommel of Gelduin's sword - “Though yours is of old, and came from the forge of another master, Loendrin, if I am not reading these wrong.”
“If I could entertain a guess,” - and the sorceress gave Dalnor one of her half-smiles - “I'd say you are a cook.”
“You would be correct, Arkan kin. When I joined the Iron Knights Order, I was on kitchen duty for five years. My blade master said I had a gift for stew and baked goods.”
Three sets of eyes focused on the sorceress, and Eirunn mumbled:
“Potions, salves, ointments, and every kind of balm you can think of.” - the young woman opened her backpack, revealing one reinforced box full of glass vials.
“Moreover, I was the best among my peers in fixing bones, sewing wounds, and curing infections.” - The sorceress showed her companions rolls of medicinal gauze, needle and thin threads.
“Wait, you are a magickless healer too?” - happily surprised, Ainhart raised an eyebrow.
“Even we, the master Foresters, can't make the Elden ones grow sorcerers on demand!” - Chuckled Gelduin, and the joke put smiles on his companions' faces.
With the soft clunk of a well maintained armor, the fort's commander approached the Four. This dwarf, one elbow taller than Gelduin, was not a ranger. The armor he wore was rather similar to what Ainhart donned, with the exception of a tall, square shield. Otherwise, the infantryman carried the same wide-bladed shortsword on his belt, paired with a pointy dagger.
“Welcome back, master Gelduin, and greetings to you, his companions! I am honored to have seen a Four in my lifetime.” - The dwarf's voice was gruff, and his manner of speech, although polite, stern.
“Tholdain, before we say anything, I must report that we clashed with Veil Breakers.” - Raised his hand the Ranger, a somber mask on his not that long ago, smiling face.
“How many of them, what abilities did they have, and what happened?!” - Tholdain's tone changed, and the concerned soldier immediately fired a salvo of questions.
“Thirteen... and we ended all of them.” - Answered the sorceress, tire sneaking back into her voice.
“These Decaying Ones were wizards once, imprisoned by my ancestors.” - The Knight said with a sigh - “How did these foul cadavers escape their tomb, I do not know.”
“True, Neldaeiri wards are not easily shattered.” - The Priest rested his hands upon the axe's shaft as he addressed the fort's commander - “The Veil Breakers attacked a fort near the coast of Niwath. Thus hiding behind innocent souls, they evaded our sorceress's magickal sight, and if not for master Gelduin's keen senses, would've caught us completely by surprise.”
The Four watched how worry, swiftly followed by terror, conquered Tholdain's scarred face.
“I shall send a warning message with our semaphore and ask which fort was attacked!”
“Sergeant, double the patrols and give each squad a magick lantern.” - Tholdain ordered one of his soldiers and the dwarf immediately ran to relay them, bow in hand.
“However,” - the commander slowly traced one of his many facial scars when his sergeant dashed out of sight - “I fear that the cadaverous wizards alone couldn't have breached defenses like ours.”
“Cometh nighttime, we shall elaborate further and share our suspicions.” - The Knight lifted his visor, and offered Tholdain a wax stamped missive.
'Twas wrapped in leather for protection against the elements, and tied by a silvery string.
Following his example, with the exception of Gelduin, each of the Four offered their orders. These were bound in pretty much the same way, only their wax seals were different. Ainhart's was yellow and represented a stylized image of his goddess, Vayila. Eirunn's was blue, a spear in the seal's center with six radiating rays coming from it. The stamp of his knightly order, a longsword held by two gauntlets center blade cast from gray wax, sealed Dalnor's missive.
Tholdain removed his left glove and touched the strings with a ring forged from the same metal. With a gentle hum, each string untied itself by way of secure magicks. Those who dared steal and open these missives without such a ring, would suffer consequences most deathly.
“Commander,” - When the dwarven soldier read their orders, the sorceress offered him a small wrap containing six, thick candles, made of green wax - “please use them to fortify your sentries' lanterns. Just in case there are other Veil Breakers lurking nearby...”
“Arkan glow!” - Tholdain was barely able to lower his voice as he accepted the precious gift, and whispered - “How can I thank you for these healing candles, Sorceress?”
“If you could spare some wax and Elven rope you shall have more, at the morrow.”
“Consider it done!”
Apparently, the sergeant had relayed more than his orders as he ran down the streets.
“Commander, I and my companions will retire for the evening.” - Grinned Gelduin since he saw a little girl barreling down the street, a stuffed reindeer toy in her tiny hands.
“Daaaadeeee!” - Yelled the blond-haired, snub-nosed child, and hopped in her father's open arms.
“Meet Lyra, my youngest.” - Chuckled the dwarf, as his madly giggling daughter shoved her covered in odd bits of dirt stuffed reindeer in his kisser.
“You are going to swagger that house of yours again, aren't you?” - Smiled the scarred commander, and pointed towards the fort's town square.
Near the street's end, there stood three storey tall, brick, stone, and iron home. Built like a fortress, its narrow windows looked like firing ports rather than doors for the sunlight to enter. Speaking of gates, the home had one and it very much resembled the fort's main entrance. Slanted, the roof was laden with interlocked, thick marble tiles, secured with metal bolts. Three, white smoke puffing chimneys stuck from the roof at even intervals, their tops covered by steel bars.
“You are damned right, I'm gonna brag, Tholdain! 'Twas me who built it, after all.” - Grumbled Gelduin, his proud words muffled a bit by the pink reindeer.
The Four saluted Tholdain, tiredly picked their luggage, and left him to his duties. As their boots walked down the cobbled street, they passed a number of soldiers. Elves, humans, and halfling reindeer riders, these were reinforcements stationed here to help bolster the fort's dwarven garrison.
Those who couldn't be billeted in the homes had erected their tents between them. Some of the empty yards found a new use and, covered with tarps, housed dozens of reindeer and their battle gear. Piles of dry grass and barrels full of feed or water were stocked near, so their halfling raiders could keep their mounts well fed and watered.
Some practiced mock combat with wooden swords and spears, a well-known, beloved Elven training song echoing across the fort:
Sword and spear always by my side
My brothers – you are my shield.
Our line of beating hearts, unbroken!
'Ere do the Thulm come, and neigh their frothing mounts,
Ax's of bone and blades of hate about to pounce.
Plant yer feet and raise thine shield,
I shan't ever fall with brothers by my side.
Our cries of pain, unspoken!
'Ere do the flesh witches come, and screech their lies,
Thoughts of curse and magicks vile onward rise.
Steady your mind and hold thine shield,
I won't break with brothers by my side.
Our oaths of allegiance, unbroken!
'Ere do the Veil Breakers come, and spread their rot,
Sword of rust and spell of death is all they got.
Hold the line and raise thine shield,
The dead I'll slay with brothers by my side.
Our iron wills, unbroken!
Their sergeants and corporals used this opportunity to practice formation fighting, and yelled commands as loud as they could. Shouting and singing were age old breathing exercises which no soldier of Alkiorn would dare shirk from.
Eager to keep their bodies in top shape, many an elven infantryman was engaged in physical exercise. Push-ups, squats, and sit-ups in their hundreds, they did straight at the side of the cobbled road. Those doing pull-ups dangled on their fingertips from every available tall ledge they could find. The lovers of running were dashing between houses, oft one bellowing encouraging words halfling on their backs.
Others, tucked in their sleeping bags, slumbered like newborn; miraculously unperturbed by shouted commands, and the stomp of boots. Faces calm, many sported a grin, and even mumbled in their sleep, dreaming something nice. Veterans of many a Thulm raid, these soldiers could wake up and be battle ready in mere seconds.
Then there were the hungry ones, and they eagerly stuffed their gobs with all manner of foods, both cold and hot. The Four, knowing they'd be fed tonight, shared their last trail rations with them. Human knights greeted Dalnor with a respectful head bow, and proceeded to make simple, yet hearty porridge from the hard tack they were given.
At long last, their feet stopped before Gelduin's home.
The elongated, square building, had a well groomed vegetable garden in its yard, most of its chill-fearing produce already picked clean. Carrying baskets full of roots, leafy greens, their hands and clothes covered with dirt, Gelduin's four daughters greeted them. Without exception, all of them had shades of their father's hair, his athletic build, and nearly the same eye color.
One needn't be a master of Creation magicks to see that his daughters were healthy, and practically bursting at their seams with energy. Gelduin gently placed Lyra on the ground, who immediately ran to join her sisters. There was a small basket, half-filled with turnips, which sported another, empty compartment. The little girl placed her toy there, patted its stuffed head and grinned, mumbling something to it in her childish voice.
“This is Graciena, my oldest, followed by Egenhild, Magnlena, and, of course, our littlest, Lyra!” - The Ranger hugged each of his daughters when he announced their names.
Last, but not least, he patted Lyra's ruffled hair and she bellowed at the top of her tiny lungs:
“Wheeere is mamaaa!? Daddy's here!”
Knight, Sorceress, and Priest saw a shadow dim their Ranger's eye. Terror swam there and his happy smile nearly died, though, this sadness lived but for a single breath and then... then the door swung open. A very pregnant dwarven woman stood in its frame and Gelduin breathed quite the audible sigh of relief.
Eyes a lighter shade of green, hair of dark-gold, before the lady hugged her husband, Osnhild greeted his companions:
“Chosen of Alkiorn, you are most welcome in our home! This night, we will break bread and drink ale together, then...”
“Then we will feast upon my Temple's most delectable Rocco stew!” - Interjected the Priest, pairing his blessing with a series of quick hand gestures - “May Vayila's love grace all your kin and Her light shine bright through your ever-happy eyes!”
“I am in luck then! Soon-to-be-born Thorfaeld and I are craving fresh mushyrooms since early morn.” - Chuckled the matron, one hand around her husband's neck and the other, patting her belly.
Ainhart said nothing, but triumphantly grinned at Gelduin and patted his backpack.
The Fall wind returned from his somber trip, chasing a bunch of stormy clouds before him. Sun's last rays retreated behind distant, jagged mountains, and Dusk's sister Night proudly showed her darkest of gowns. Lanterns made the fort's homes and tall walls glisten like the star-covered sky. Rain droplets, those little rascals, they chased every single soul who still populated the streets, landing over their heads with innumerable thousands of little splashes.
“I promised you a flagon of halfling best ale, friends.” - Grumbled smiling Gelduin, picked up his littlest, and ushered everyone inside.
***
Dear reader, if you liked this story, you might enjoy my published work.
Another chivalrous entry in the Age of Lost Songs. I like the use of reindeer as mounts, I'm working with that same idea in one my own settings. There's something very noble about reindeer/elk/moose - the same kind of nobility in all the ancient writings on horses. Peculiar fact: both male and female reindeer can have antlers.
I also appreciate the consistent use of song and poetry. This one fit a dwarven culture perfectly, more rustic and folksey than the ones before.
Lastly, that descriptive ending was spectacular. "Sun's last rays retreated behind distant, jagged mountains, and Dusk's sister Night proudly showed her darkest of gowns." Reminds me of how many chapters in The Odyssey close: "The sun sank, the roads of the world grew dark."
Such a lovely description!