“Callindra, I need you up here.”  Tryst said.  They had stopped after walking for perhaps a quarter of a candle-mark, the smell of fresh air was getting stronger.  Callindra squeezed past the others and came to where Tryst was frowning at a closed door.

“I think it’s locked but I can’t tell.  I don’t want to break the latch by trying to turn it without unlocking it first.”  He said, “Can you take a look for me?”

She laid her hand on the door, leaning forward to look at the keyhole.  The hooded lantern Vilhylm handed to her illuminated the lock, but she set it down and shuttered it.  Pale moonlight shone through the hole briefly and then went out.  The fresh air was briefly fouled by a whiff of rotting meat.

Stepping swiftly back, Callindra gently pushed the others back as well.  “Something is out there, and I don’t think it’s friendly.”  She said in a low voice.  “I could smell rotten flesh, but I’m not sure if it’s undead or just has bad hygiene.”

“Is the door locked?”  Tryst asked.

“I don’t know, I didn’t want to stay close enough to be within reach.”  She said.

“Within reach of what?”  Cronos asked.

Before she could respond, the door was slammed in with terrible force.  It shattered the brickwork of the tunnel and half tore from its hinges and a huge hand reached in, groping for something to crush.  With a cry, Callindra sprang forward and hacked the last knuckle off the middle finger with a blur of shining steel.

The hand was jerked out of reach swiftly and Callindra ran after it.  “This might be our only chance to escape!”  She shouted, not looking to see if her brothers were following.

Once outside, she dove to one side, tucking and rolling to come up in a fighting crouch.  The others hadn’t followed and the giant didn’t seem to notice that she’d escaped.  It was a massive thing, all ropy muscle stretched taunt over heavy bones.  As she watched, it bent to reach its uninjured hand into the opening again.

She set her jaw, waited for her moment and ran towards the thing, ducking beneath the giant’s arm while whipping Brightfang in a wicked arc that cut the arm to the bone.  The creature stumbled backward, arm hanging uselessly and mouth gaping in a silent roar of pain.  Callindra’s triumph was short lived as its other hand slapped her aside like a bug.  Brightfang flew from her hand as the blow fractured her left arm and several ribs.

Callindra gritted her teeth and swung her right arm in a wide arc even as she spun through the air to land on her feet, sliding to a stop with a gentle guiding gust of wind.  The Mithril chain glittered in the moonlight as the motion of her arm brought Brightfang spinning in a wide circle that ended with the sword burying itself in the monster’s back.

The giant turned eyes burning with abyssal flame upon her and reached up to grab the chain with its good hand.  She could feel the roots of Jorda’s Gift growing through the flesh of her arm to wrench the bone back into place and the pain drove her to her knees.

“HELP YOU IDIOTS!” She screamed, hoping to galvanize her brothers into action and tried to yank on the chain hard enough to dislodge Brightfang from where he was embedded in the giant’s back.

An explosion of light from within the tunnel was followed by a blast of fire that bathed the monster’s legs.  Cronos leaped out in its wake, his twin swords flashing in the dying light of the fire.  Vilhylm leaped completely over the younger man, stabbing his bone spear into the giant’s leg shouting a harsh battle cry.  Tryst calmly walked forward, shield shining before him and hammer in his right hand.

Ignoring her brothers, the giant yanked on the chain, pulling her through the air by the shackle on her right wrist.  Callindra twisted in the air, trying to control the path of her flight and only by sheer luck and the blessing of the winds managed to swing sideways far enough to wrap the chain around it instead of being deposited directly into the giant’s mouth.

A sickening crunch sounded just next to her and Callindra saw that the giant had bitten down on the chain instead of her body.  Shards of shattered teeth were falling from its mouth as it shook its head in renewed pain and anger.  She managed to wrap her gloved hand around the chain and hang on as she was flung about.  The chain flung from its mouth and she swung briefly before Brightfang pulled free of the things’ flesh and she landed, rolling and painfully jarring her injuries.

Somehow knowing exactly where he would be, Callindra put out her right hand and caught her sword by the hilt as he flew toward her.  Standing with a wince at the pain in her ribs she took in the battle scene.  Working with precision, Cronos and Vilhylm flanked the monster while Tryst stood in front of it, the light shining from his shield seeming to confuse it.  When her brothers ran forward in a rush on either side, she struck out as well, summoning a single mighty blade of wind to slice across the giant’s back.  Their combined attack brought the monster crashing down, flattening some small trees with its death throes.

“We have to go.”  Tryst said, extinguishing the light on his shield.  “There are more of them. I can… feel them out there.”

Callindra looked at him, a flicker of concern flashing across her face.  She thought she saw a flicker of emerald green in his eyes, but it was gone so fast it might have been her imagination.  The lingering doubt that she thought she’d banished returned.  Had he been infected that night?  It seemed impossible that he had been able to fight it off for months.  Jorda had even let him enter her realm and he hadn’t shown any signs.

A crashing sound in the undergrowth snapped her back to the current problem.  “Tryst, I can’t run very far with these broken ribs.”  She said, “Can you patch me up just enough that we can escape?”

“No time.”  Vilhylm said, staring off into the trees.

“He’s right Callindra.”  Tryst said, frowning at her as though she had gotten injured on purpose.

With a groan, she gritted her teeth and followed Vilhylm as he led them away from the walls.  Behind them, the roar of battle erupted.  Callindra shuddered at the sounds of men and women dying in the night while they fled.  It didn’t seem right.  It didn’t seem fair.  But they needed to complete their mission or else more cities would fall.  Somehow she was hopeful that Denoria would fight off this invasion.  That huge dragon hadn’t been circling the city, and it was the real harbinger of destruction.

Callindra sprang out of sleep and out of bed in one combined moment.  With a rattle and musical chiming of tiny links, Brightfang leapt off the floor and flew toward her in a spinning unpredictable arc of razor sharp steel.  With a sound that was half laugh of joy, half cry of terror.  She flailed with an arm still wrapped in sheets and just barely managed to grab him by the blade, the flat smacking into her palm with a satisfying smack.

She was wearing a thin cotton shift and nothing else, her hair seeming almost to twine around her with its vines and flowers smelling of sweet summer afternoons.  The winds joyfully tugging at the hem of her shift made her smile.  The sun shining on her sword made her smile.  The sight of her brothers walking through the door rubbing sleep out of their eyes made her smile so hard she thought her heart would break.

“Thank you all.”  She began, but before she could say any more her brothers gathered around her each showing that they cared in their own way.  Tryst with a pleased, but concerned look as he used a magic Delving to make sure she was fully healed.  Cronos with an awkward one armed hug and off color joke.  Vilhylm with an examination of Brightfang and her armor.

“I think we need to go.”  Callindra said, “The people looking for me aren’t going to stop.  What you did to get me out.  I mean it’s the ORDER.”

“I don’t care who it is.”  Cronos said, “None of them want to hurt you as much as we value you.  But yeah, we should get out of here.”

“Although you’re likely to still be exhausted for a few days and you have a number of new scars, I think you’re still fit to be out of bed, at least for a short time.”  Tryst said, “The Goddess’s gift has extraordinary restorative powers, but it still draws the power to heal from your body.  You shouldn’t overexert yourself and you need plenty of food to help with the process.”

“Your gear seems to be in order.”  Vilhylm said, “Your armor is in perfect repair and that chain seems like it hasn’t disrupted the integrity of your sword, although the balance is likely to be off.”

The bells in the Monastery began to ring and Tryst looked up sharply.  “Those are the alarm bells, someone’s attacking the front gate!  We have to help!”

“We have to go.”  Vilhylm said flatly, “Odds are we’re the reason the attack is happening.  A few extra swords aren’t going to make a difference here; your Brothers and Sisters can handle it.  We need to go.”

“You may be right, but I-“ Tryst began, but the door being slammed open interrupted him.  Larcel stood there.

“What are you still doing here?”  She demanded, “You need to get out before these things get through the front gate.”

“Things?  What things?”  Callindra asked, as she tried to take off her shift and discovered that it was far more difficult now that she had Brightfang permanently bonded to the chain on her right wrist.

“I don’t know.  There’s a man in a black cowl with an army of green eyed freaks out there.”  Larcel said, “Nothing for you to worry about really, we can handle it.  They’re demanding we let them search our premises for fugitives, but they don’t have any legal right to do so.”

“Shouldn’t we stay and help?”  Callindra asked, freeing herself from the shift and beginning thread Brightfang’s chain back through it. “This is probably all my fault.”

“Not a chance toothpick.”  Larcel said with a good-natured poke at her ribs.  “We’ve got this covered.”

“Thank you.”  Vilhylm said before anyone else could respond.  “Come on then, let’s get moving before we make the defense of your sacred ground more difficult.”

“Green eyed freaks?”  Tryst said, worry creasing his forehead.  “I don’t like the sound of that.  They’re likely to be Abyssal Spawn Larcel.  Do not take them lightly.

“I was there at the briefing Sir Te’Chern.”  She said to Tryst, “I heard the report and your warnings regarding these so-called Spawn.”

“Don’t underestimate even the most harmless seeming opponent.”  Vilhylm warned, “We made that mistake and it nearly cost us our lives.”­­­

Callindra had disentangled herself from the cotton shift and grinned to herself at Cronos’s blush.  She was quite nude underneath but now was not the time to discover she was shy, and she found that she really wasn’t.  Just like the books she’d read about comrades in arms, these men were her battle comrades and companions; she did not look on them with any possible romantic feelings.

“Cronos where are my clothes?”  She asked, giving the younger man an excuse to turn away.  “I need to get dressed so I can get into my armor.”

Larcel chuckled, “Your things are on the shelf next to your bed.  Let the poor boy be.”

It took a bit of time due to Brightfang and his chain, but Callindra managed to wrap herself with a breast band, get her shirt and breeches on and finally get her armor strapped into place once more.  The pressure around her chest felt comforting, like a hug from a parent, not that she remembered her parents.

“All right.  Let’s go.”  She said, finally feeling herself again.

“We’ve been waiting on you.”  Cronos grumbled, still apparently feeling salty about her teasing him.

“We have a passage that leads out of the city.”  Larcel said, “I’ll show you where the entrance is once you’re ready.”

They followed her to a conspicuously blank section of wall and pressed a pair of bricks.  The wall slid smoothly inward at her touch revealing a stairway that spiraled into darkness.  A light breeze smelling of fresh mountain air came to curl around Callindra, tickling the ends of her unbound hair and sparring with the zephyrs that had accompanied her here.

“Take care.”  Larcel gripped Callindra’s forearm.  “I’ve seen some people roughed up before, but what they’d done to you was…”  She shuddered.  “Just take care.”

“My brothers fill in where I fail.”  Callindra replied, a pained look in her eyes.  “I try as best I can but I thank Jorda that I have good people watching out for me.  I never thought I’d come closer to dying from something like that, I always figured it’d be from mouthing off to the wrong person.”

It was a weak joke, but it brought a smile to Larcel’s face.  She nodded wordlessly and Callindra followed her brothers down the stairs.

 

“That doesn’t matter now.  We have to get out of here.”  Vilhylm said, “Now how do we activate this portal?”  He stepped across the silver circle in the floor and vanished.

The others followed close on his heels.  When they arrived on the other side, an alarm bell was ringing and the sound of running footsteps echoed in the foyer outside.  Voices shouted back and forth adding to the chaos.

“Intruders!  Just when the Masters are gone!”

“Where could they be?  We must find them and put a stop to their thieving!”

“There’ll be a promotion in this for certain.”

“Is this a test?”

“Are they trying to see how we handle an emergency?  I’ll show them I can handle myself.”

Vilhylm stood near the door, his spear in his hand.  “It looks bad out there.”  He said, not turning around.

“You can put me down.”  Callindra said, her voice weak but steady.

Tryst incanted a spell, laying more healing magic upon her and let her stand on her own.  She gripped Brightfang in both hands, facing the doorway with a determined grimace on her face.  In spite of the singed hair and lines of healing scars sutured by Brightstar vines, Callindra looked fiercer than they had ever seen her.

“Nobody is going to lock me up again.”  She said in a flat voice, “If we have to fight our way out, so be it.”

“There are too many of them.”  Vilhylm said, “Even if they’re weak they would overpower us by sheer weight of numbers.”

“Leave this to me.”  Cronos’s Master said in his dry voice.  “As long as you do not touch any of them or speak aloud you will be able to pass unseen among them.  Please ensure that you bring my apprentice with you; this will likely exhaust him to the point of unconsciousness.”

Cronos’s eyes flashed, and azure power expanded out from him in a gossamer blanket that settled over them all.  Callindra blinked in surprise; her brothers faded from her sight completely.  There was a soft crash of chainmaile armor and scabbarded swords hitting the granite floor and she groped towards it.

Even as she found Cronos’s comatose form, other hands began to lift him.  She stifled a cry, remembering the warning not to speak.  One of the others must have picked him up.  The door crashed open and a wild-eyed apprentice in hastily donned armor dashed down the corridor, a large hammer held in both hands.

Feeling slightly out of focus, Callindra wove through the mass of running people taking special care to avoid touching anyone.  It was surreal and she felt like it was all just a strange dream.  She was sure some of it was the shock from her kidnapping, injuries and healing, but being this close to people who were hunting for her and knowing they had no idea how close she stood to them nearly made her break out into hysterical laughter.

She escaped into the courtyard and then broke into the street.  Once she was clear, she ran for all she was worth, not knowing where she was going and not caring as long as it was away.  After a panicked rush, Callindra ducked into an alley breathing heavily and trembling in every limb.  The spell that kept her invisible dissipated.

Beside her, wavering lines in the air flickered and she brought Brightfang up in a sweeping stroke that she only barely managed to stop before it took Vilhylm’s head from his shoulders.  He smiled at her, “Looks like we had the same intuition.”

Callindra almost stabbed him when she flung her arms around him, hugging tightly for a moment before letting go and stepping back with an embarrassed expression on her face.  “You came for me. Thank you.”

Vilhylm looked surprised for an instant, “Of course we came for you.  How could you even doubt it?”

She shivered, “They were so powerful and nobody knew where I was…”

“Easy Callindra, don’t dwell on it right now.  Let’s get you back to the inn and get you cleaned up.”  He said soothingly.

“I don’t want to go back there.”  She said, “Can we just go somewhere else?”

“All your things are there.”  Said Vilhylm, “Your armor, your clothes, your money and everything you own other than that sword are there.”

“He is all I need.”  She said, her voice hard.  “Nobody will ever take him away from me again.”

“We don’t have to go back.”  Another voice said, and Tryst stepped into the alley with Cronos over his shoulder.  “I will take you to the chapter house.  Vilhylm can go and collect our belongings from the Golden Mantle.”

“Let me help you.”  Callindra said, moving to his side.

“You can barely walk on your own.”  He said shortly, “Just follow along and keep that sword under the cloak. For the love of all that is holy keep the cloak closed and put the hood up, you’ll get us all caught.”

They moved through the town, keeping to alleys and less traveled streets.  Once a street urchin approached looking for a handout, but a stern look from Tryst sent him running before Callindra managed to disentangle herself from her cloak and the unfamiliar length of chain now attached to her sword.

Tryst brought them to a small door at the side of an imposingly large structure and knocked with his dagger hilt.  A face blocked the light on the other side of an arrow slit, closely followed by a stern woman’s voice.

“If you require sanctuary you may come in by the front gate.”  She said, “This door is for the Member’s dormitory.”

“I am Tryst Te’Chern and although I am not a resident here I am in need of shelter for myself and my family.”

“You were in with the Lady earlier today?  The one from our Chapter House in Arkasia?”  She inquired.

“Yes.  My sister was taken by our enemies and my brother was injured in the rescue.”  He said, “You’re sister Lacrel aren’t you?”

“Tryst.  We don’t need this.”  Callindra rasped, her voice rough.  “I’ve walked for a mile tonight, I’ll walk another.”  She turned to go, the winds gusting weakly around her with weak but insistent anger.  Her borrowed cloak blew wide, revealing her naked, wounded body with the chain on her wrist and the strange profusion of flowering vines growing where she had been whipped, burned and cut.

“By the Ancient One!”  Lacrel said, throwing the door wide.  “Get in here immediately!”

“You’ve changed your mind?”  Callindra asked, turning to glare at her.  “Just because of these few scratches?”

“I am sorry.  I allowed my prejudice to delay your entry and care.”  Said Lacrel, “I will submit myself for penance if you wish, but please come inside.”

“Normally I would make an issue of it, but I’m too gods damned exhausted.”  Callindra said, “I’ll gladly forgive you if you just give me a safe bed to sleep in.”  Larcel and Tryst caught her just before she hit the ground.

“We have to find that secret door.”  Tryst said, “Ignore the girl, she isn’t our first priority.”

They moved into the bathing room, checking for hidden triggers and eventually located a section of wall that slid sideways to reveal a narrow servant’s stair.  As promised, it led directly to a hallway that went to the stables on one side and the wine cellar on the other.

“If she wasn’t lying about this, odds are good she was telling the truth about the rest.”  Vilhylm mused, “Perhaps we should go and investigate this Guild eh?”

“Gods and Demons she wasn’t talking about The Order was she?”  Cronos swore, “I don’t think we can stand against the Weaponmage’s Guild.”

“I am sure I can talk to them.  My religious order has quite a bit of influence in this city.”  Tryst sighed, “Besides we don’t even know if that’s what she meant or not.”

“Time’s wasting.”  Vilhylm said shortly.  He had taken off his mask but seemed to be nearly uncontrollably twitchy.  “Let’s move.”

They ran through the streets, eventually arriving at a section of the city that had Chapter Houses facilities for various mercenary companies.  They stopped in front of a courtyard with high walls.  The symbol of two whips crossed behind a huge hammer was painted boldly on the door.  Tryst went to knock on it with a maile clad fist, but Cronos pulled him back.

“Wait brother.  We should think about this first.  If they’ve captured Callindra, they’re not to be trusted.  We shouldn’t even give them the benefit of thinking that they’ll play fair.”

“How else are we going to get in?”  Tryst demanded.

“There’s always another way in.”  Vilhylm said with a vulpine smile.  “Usually a side or back entrance.  Let’s see what secrets this place has to give up.”

The back of the compound was a working forge.  Errand runners came and went bearing sacks of coin in and leaving with leather wrapped bundles, warriors brought weapons to be sharpened and armor to be mended.  It was easy to slip into the stream of people coming and going.

Once inside, they took stock of the busy courtyard.  There were three forges working full blast, the air was hot and dozens of people stood around waiting for their turn to have weapons sharpened or armor repaired.  The boys and girls striving at and around the forges paused for a moment as a side door opened.

A pair of men walked from the door, a huge ogre of a man with a massive hammer strapped to his back and a slim blade of a man with a whip coiled on either hip.  What brought their attention was the fact that the skinny man had a small, brilliantly white flower tucked behind his ear.  Brightstar flowers didn’t bloom this time of year.

“Did you see-“ Cronos began.

“That flower-“ Vilhylm said.

“They have her.” Said Tryst grimly, “I don’t know where but they have her.”

As one, Vilhylm and Tryst started for the pair but the usually hot headed Cronos restrained them.  “Hey.  They’re leaving.  Now might be our only chance.  If she’s still alive that is.”

The other two restrained themselves and managed to stay inconspicuous enough that the busy people around them ignored their presence.  There were enough other folk clamoring for their attention that the workers in the yard were happy to ignore them.

Cronos led his brothers up to the door and to his amazement found it unlocked.  They quickly slipped through into a spacious, quiet foyer.  A fountain that looked like a quite realistic erupting volcano, complete with heat and sound stood in the center.  Murals covered the walls, showing fantastic scenes of landscapes where trees, grasses and stones were made of small humanoid figures bent and twisted into impossible shapes.  The floor was polished granite and, as impossible is it seemed, appeared to be one solid piece.

There were two exits, one a grand archway and the other a simple, small door camouflaged to match the painting so closely they wouldn’t have seen it had it not been for the dim lighting of the foyer and the dull glow of light shining through the crack.

“She’s behind there.”  Cronos said in the dry, cold voice of his Master.  “I can feel it, and she is necessary for this fight.  You must save your battle sister or be forsaken by the Gods themselves.”

Tryst shivered, feeling the full force of the old man’s eyes staring out through the young man’s face.  “Of course we’re going to save her.”  He said, his voice sounding strained.  “That’s what we came here for.”

“Then be about it damn you.”  Said the voice that wasn’t Cronos’s, “This kind of thing takes a toll upon my apprentice and I would think it a shame for him to perish because of your slothful behavior.”

“How do we open the door?”  Vilhylm asked, “I can’t pick the lock, that kind of thing was more Callindra’s style.”

“I certainly don’t know anything about that.”  Tryst said, “We can’t break it down without attracting attention.”

“Have you tried just opening the god rotting door?”  Cronos said, reaching out an pushing the door open.  “Come now, my time is limited and I fear you shall need my assistance.”

They entered, finding themselves in a hallway lit by matching sets of torches that lined the walls.  Closer inspection revealed that what had at first appeared to be torches were actually whips, the wrapped leather hanging down and glowing with flickering golden flames.  The last set had guttering emerald fire instead of gold.

“I don’t like this.”  Tryst said, looking at the last pair of whips.  “I really don’t like this.”

“Grow a spine.”  Cronos rasped, “They’re just dying weapons.  Now if I am feeling the Power here correctly there is a circle nearby that will transport you to another portion of this place.”

They moved ahead cautiously and found a circle of silver set in the solid granite of the floor.  Cronos walked confidently ahead and vanished.  After a moment’s hesitation, the other two followed.  The room the found themselves in was brightly lit, various implements were laid out in neat rows on clean white marble tables.  Tiny knives, saws, pliers and other instruments that could have been for surgery, torture or dissection shared space with dozens of hammers and other heavy tools that were obviously designed for work on a blacksmith’s forge.

Cronos was halfway across the room, heading for a doorway that glowed a dull red instead of the bright white of the one they were in.  The other two hurried to catch up, and upon passing through the doorway stopped in shock.  Callindra was strung up by her wrists, hanging from a fine shining silvery chain that connected to a pair of manacles of the same metal.

To one side was an anvil set up next to a sluggishly moving river of molten rock.  Drips of lava fell from a crack in the stone ceiling of the chamber, falling with a sizzling hiss on the girl’s forehead.  She was naked but for the multitude of Brightstar vines that grew and twined about her, trying in vain to heal the terrible wounds that cut across her body.

“By the four Winds that’s a welcome sight!”  Callindra said, removing Brightfang’s baldric from her back and beginning to unbuckle her armor.

“Greetins, I’m Tallie an you must be th young warrior lass what’s in need of a good soak an scrub.”  The maid said, favoring her with a dimple cheeked smile.  “Th wine is cold an th water’s hot.  I’ll wash yer back an help with gettin yer hair brushed out.  Jest get otta that sweat soaked mess an we’ll get ya sommat clean ta wear in th meantime.”

Callindra was already halfway out of her leathers, the pauldrons had been unbuckled and she was struggling with a strap on the breastplate.  “Can you get this strap for me Tallie?  I’ve been having trouble with it since taking an injury a few days ago.  Shoulder is bedamned stiff.”

“Sure an I’ll take th blade out ta be sharpened an oiled if ya like.”  The other woman came close, looking very light and sure on her feet in spite of her plump frame.  When Callindra snatched Brightfang’s sheath from the floor and clasped him to her chest, Tallie stepped back, her mouth in a surprised O.

“He stays with me.”  She said, more sharply than she intended.  Shaking her head, she sighed.  “I’m sorry, it’s just… I don’t like being parted from him and I don’t allow anyone else to sharpen or take care of him.  That’s an interesting accent, what part of the Realm are you from?”

Accepting the change of subject with aplomb, Tallie smiled.  “I’m from th Isles of Ravenshir Lady warrior.  Nae part a th Realm such as it is really.  For all we pay a bit a tribute ta th King now and again, we’re a fierce independent lot ye ken?”

“That’s off the coast in the Drakenmore Sea right?”  Callindra asked, letting Tallie unbuckle her armor and help her out of the sweat stained padding beneath.

“Oh aye, not so far from here by ship, but quite a distance nonetheless.  Where’d ya get fresh Brightstar flowers this time a year?”  Asked Tallie, tugging at the twining vines of the Tiara Jorda had given her.

“That’s a long story – ow!”  Callindra winced, “I should have explained, they don’t come out.  They’re… rooted in my scalp it’s –OW!  Curse it Tallie they don’t come out!  It’s magic.”

“Gods an Demons.”  Tallie breathed, her eyes wide. “Now that’s a sight sure an it is.  Where’d ya come by a thing like tha?”

“It was a gift.”  She said, stripping out of the rest of her clothes. “I don’t really want to talk about it.  It doesn’t get in the way of brushing, braiding or whatnot.”

“Not ta worry lass.  I’ll shut me gob an get ya clean.”  She helped Callindra scrub her body with hot soapy water while sitting on a stool before rinsing off and climbing into the tub with fresh herbs floating in it.

Callindra relaxed into water just barely cool enough to touch with a contented sigh, allowing Tallie to knead scented oils into her hair.  “You jest lay back an relax lass.”  She said, “Have a drink a chilled wine an I’ll be back with a robe fer ya afore th water gets cool.”

The wine was cold, and the bath was hot.  She had just had a wonderful scalp massage and in spite of the slight pinching of Jorda’s gift on her head, Callindra allowed herself to slip into a drowsy state of slumber.

A figure entered into her vision from the left side.  A man wearing black leather armor stared down at her.  “Is she out?”

“Oh aye.  Ain’t gonna be movin fer a few hours.”  Tallie said.

“Good.  You’ve earned your … pardon.  I’ll tell them.”  The man said, “You have done as you were told.”

The last thing Callindra could see before her eyelids became lead weights was the concerned face of her maid.  The young woman’s voice was tinged with worry, even though it was faint and distorted through her drugged haze.  “You ain’t gonna hurt her right?  That’s what ya said afore.  Just gonna ask her about th man what broke some laws right?”

“Yeah.”  The man’s voice dripped false sincerity.  “Sure, I ain’t gonna hurt the little bitch.  Run along to Vex and give him this.”  There was a clink as a bag of coins changed hands.

–

Trumpets blared and drums rumbled; the gates of Gauntlgrym opened to admit the triumphant return of Storgar and the warriors he’d led to stop the advance of Krrakathanak.  Some of the warriors had wanted to remove the beast’s head and their leader hadn’t been able to bring himself to deny them.  So many of their comrades had fallen in the fight.  Their grisly trophy was carried on a stretcher made of six tower shields lashed together and required eight of the strongest warriors to carry.

From his vantage high on the Shieldwall where he waited with his mother, Durrak could feel the very earth tremble with the roar of approval that went up from the assembled Dwarves.  Nearly the entire city had turned out into the square between the outer gate and the Shieldwall.  In spite of the noise, he could still hear Brenlena’s voice.

“I knew he would be victorious.  I knew it in my bones that he would come back to me.” She sounded fiercely proud, but he could also see tears glistening in her eyes.

Durrak himself had no compunction about expressing his joy and relief at seeing his father return.  He shouted as loud as the others assembled and tears streamed down his face into the beginnings of his adult beard.  Storgar had been gone for six months and there had been little or no word from his party.

As the war band drew closer, Durrak’s voice faded away.  He saw the way his father walked; as carefully as a mountain cat stalking prey.  His eyes were searching the crowd, never stopping for more than a moment anywhere and his right hand kept straying to the hilt of the massive blade strapped to his back.  Something was wrong with him.

“Mother.  Do you see that?”  Durrak asked.

“Your father’s triumphant return!  This is a day that will be written in the annals of the Caverstorm family.”  She said, her voice vibrating with pride.  “Nothing can spoil this moment.”

He quieted, deciding to allow her to enjoy the feeling.  He didn’t feel her elation or triumph though.  All he could feel was dread.  The memory of the Moragainnag’s arthritic finger pointing at him made Durrak shiver.  Something was happening and this homecoming was central to it.  He was central to it.

A blast of foul air raced up the valley, alarm bells tolling in its wake.  Vast black wings blotted out the sun and a roar of pure rage and hatred shook the very stones under his feet.

“To the walls!  Battle stations!  Secure the city!”  Brenlena shouted.

Storgar turned towards the vast dragon, massive Greatsword raised in both hands.  His battle standard flying above his head, snapping from the end of a war spear.  Behind him, the doors of their mountain fortress slammed closed.  The sound boomed, a death knell for the brave warriors outside as the dragon landed on the outer wall.

“YOU INSOLENT WORMS WILL PAY FOR YOUR TRANSGRESSION.” The dragon’s terrible voice drove Durrak to his knees, tears of sheer terror rolling down his cheeks and soaking into his beard.  “YOU DARE TO BRING MY LIFEMATE’S HEAD BACK LIKE A BATTLE TROPHY AFTER YOU MURDER HIM WHILE HE SLUMBERED.”

Durrak could not stay to listen.  The overwhelming force of the monster’s presence drove him deep into the mountain.  He ran without thought and when he came to himself it was because of the intense heat of the Adamantine Forge.  A thought exploded into the forefront of his mind.

“Maegera!”  He shouted, “We need you!”

“IS IT TIME AGAIN?”  The Demon of the forge rumbled.  “IS IT TIME FOR THE WAR AGAIN?”

“Yes!”  Durrak cried, “There’s a dragon outside the gates and it’s going to kill my father and –“

“TINY DISPUTES AND MEANINGLESS FIGHTS MEAN NOTHING LITTLE MAGGOT.”  Maegera interrupted him.  “YOU WILL KNOW WHEN THE WAR BEGINS, FOR THE WORLD WILL BURN.”

“No, you must help!”  Durrak said, fear making his voice shrill.

“I AM NOT YOURS TO COMMAND LITTLE MAGGOT!  YOU DO NOT SEND ME TO FIGHT YOUR ENEMIES.  FIGHT YOUR OWN BATTLES OR DIE TRYING.”  The massive demon tilted its head to one side as though listening, “SOMETHING CALLS…”

A swirl of black butterflies in a profusion of different sizes swirled around Maegera’s horned head, thousands of them dancing on the currents of superheated air that surrounded him.  One of them floated down and Durrak reached out to touch it, confused in spite of himself.  The butterfly’s wing cut his hand to the bone and he could see they were made of unimaginably thin sheets of metal.

“Maegera.  Bringer of fire and destruction.  I summon thee with the power granted me by thy father and thy mother.  I summon thee by the power of the blades I have forged.  I summon thee with the promise of rest until the War begins again.”  A voice boomed hollowly through the Adamantine Forge.

“YOU DARE REQUEST MY PRESENCE ONCE AGAIN?”  Maegera rumbled.  “I THOUGHT I HAD KILLED YOU THE LAST TIME YOU SUMMONED ME FORTH FROM A DWARVEN KINGDOM.”

“Belach, the greatest smith to put his hand on a hammer don’t get killed by his forge fire!  Felix is still bitching about me stealing you last time ain’t he?”  The voice asked, barking a laugh.  “This ain’t a request or a theft anyway.  It’s a gods damned summoning.”

Twin loops of chain made from something that looked like ice exploded from the swarming cloud of butterflies, one catching around each of Maegera’s huge black horns.  He leaned back, almost seeming to gather himself to strike out, his wings mantling like a hawk about to take flight and with a flash and flurry of razor sharp black winged butterflies he simply disappeared.

“FIGHT YOUR OWN BATTLES LITTLE MAGGOT.”  His voice echoed throughout the chamber, even after his body faded away.  “THE WAR IS COMING AND YOU MUST FIGHT OR PERISH.”

The heat of the Adamantine Forge faded and Durrak shivered in the chill that descended swiftly on the chamber.  He saw an opening beyond where Maegera had been standing moments before.  One of the strange metal butterflies was floating into a passageway that he could just barely see.  With determination to survive, he made his way into that tunnel.