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The Callindra Chronicles Book 3: A Fall of Stars – Chapter 19

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A year ago, these words would have sent Callindra through the door in a fury.  Her losses and experience had taught her to bank the fires of her rage however, and she waited patiently instead.  The exertion of flying to the top of this place had drained her, but she needed an edge if she was going to survive and escape with Holt.  Closing her eyes, she touched Shadowsliver’s hilt and incanted a spell.

“You touch her.  You die.”  Holt’s voice reached her ears, sounding harsh as though he’d screamed it raw.  She was shocked by the level of anger in it to the point she almost lost her grip on the spell she was casting.

“Listen to the old grandfather, still feeling protective of the whelp.”  The honey sweet voice purred.  The sound was followed by the crack of kiln dried wood hitting flesh.  Callindra lost her temper and released her spell.

Everything seemed to slow as she borrowed the speed and fury of Njordi, the Great North Wind.  The door swung open with enough force that it shattered against the wall and she was through and halfway across the room before her targets had turned their heads.  Shadowsliver reached out in a perfect lunge, punching cleanly through the skull of a thin man clad only in a leather loincloth who stood beside a brazier filled with glowing coals and a variety of metal bits.

The impact hurt.  Callindra’s left hand felt as though she had punched a stone wall and she nearly lost her grip on his leather-bound hilt.  Gritting her teeth, she managed to maintain her concentration on the spell and ripped the blade free with a twist, breaking the man’s skull in twain.  With a practiced motion, she turned and hurled her sword at the wide woman who seemed to be made all of slabs of muscle.  She turned from bringing her hand back to deliver another blow with the wooden staff in her hand surprise turning to glee on her face.

It could have been the pain of impact, the speed of her motion or her horror at seeing Holt in the cell beyond the woman, bound in shackles.  It might have just been bad luck.  Whatever the reason, she saw her blade fly past her opponent’s neck, inflicting only a shallow cut.

Cursing, she tried to pull the blade back, but he had already passed through the bars and the sudden motion caused his chain to wrap around the bars of the cage.  Although she was moving much faster than the other woman, Callindra saw her smile as she turned and began to swing her staff.

In a reckless, desperate move she saw that the huge woman was trying to strike her feet so Callindra did the only thing she could think of.   Wrapping the chain around her left hand, she leaped into the air, turning a neat flip over the striking staff and the woman’s head while letting the chain loop around her neck at the same time.  With a wrench of her hips, she twisted in the air one and a half times before the chain jerked taunt and nearly tore her arms from their sockets.

The chain cut halfway through the woman’s throat, spraying blood into the chamber as Callindra bore her to the ground, screaming in pain and rage.  The spell fled as her concentration broke, but she kept the tension on the chain for another count of ten just to make sure the bitch was dead.

With a shake, she forced herself to let go of the chain.  She realized she was still snarling an unending string of curses in a low harsh language.  More of Kain’s native tongue had rubbed off on her than she’d thought; Orc was an excellent language to swear in.

“Callindra?”  Holt’s voice shook slightly, “By all the Gods and Demons how did you…  What did you… are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”  She snapped, before looking down at herself; clad in black and splattered with blood and knew her face was still set in a grimace of pain and rage.  “I’m fine.”  She said in a calmer tone of voice, “Let’s get you out.”

Her left hand throbbed and the fingers didn’t work the way they should as she untangled Shadowsliver’s chain from the bars and fumbled a ring of keys from the dead man’s belt.  Her hand twinged when she tried to turn the key in the lock and she had to use her right hand instead.  Once inside she began unlocking Holt’s bonds.  He watched her with hooded eyes.

“What happened there?”  He asked, his voice still hoarse.  “You were different.  I almost didn’t recognize you.”

“I lost my temper.  Bad things happen when I lose my temper.”  She said, fighting to keep the dregs of her anger from building on itself.  The keys fell from the numb fingers of her left hand and she bit back an orcish oath.  If only she had a god rotting sheath for her sword instead of having to carry him.

That thought made her freeze.  She did not want to put Shadowsliver, her life, her soul her companion down.  Taking a deep breath, Callindra picked up the keys with her right hand and unlocked the rest of Holt’s shackles.

The Callindra Chronicles Book 3: A Fall of Stars – Chapter 18

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As soon as she got back into the room, she shut and bolted the door.  Her brothers in arms were all waiting for her, fully dressed and girded for battle.  She wasn’t sure she wanted all of them to be involved; but she also didn’t think she could get any of them to stay behind.

“Reed snuck into the women’s bath to chide me for my slothful ways.”  She said by way of greeting.  “The rascal said he’d be waiting behind in the alley for when we finally got our wits about us.  He seemed to think the law would burn this inn to the ground if that’s what it took to put me in my place.”

“We all got not so subtle warnings about curfew and how strict the town guard is from the serving girls.” Cronos said with a bemused look on his face.  “They all seem quite taken with your brash and bold self sister.”

“I’m sure your scarred and roguish face is appealing as well brother mine.”  She said, allowing a smile to turn up one corner of her mouth.  “But now we need to move quickly so that we can get him out and safe before they even suspect he’s gone.”

They tied ropes to the bed posts and dropped them down to the side street.  No watch patrols seemed to be making rounds inside the city, but they had been tipped off about their existence and so progressed carefully.

Reed was waiting for them in the shadows of a doorway and gave them a stern look when they arrived.  “You tryin to bring the entire guard down on us?”  He said in a low voice.  “I heard catfights what made less noise.”

“Lead on.”  Callindra said in the same low tone, knowing whispers tended to carry further but only remembering because he had done it first.  “I thought you wanted us to hurry.”

He glared at her, but slipped off down the dark street, moving from shadow to shadow with barely a sound.  She had to admit that at very least Reed made far less noise than her brothers did.  The little urchin wasn’t quieter than she was though.  Not much.

After a few tense minutes, they stopped at Reed’s raised hand.  He came back to them with obvious frustration on his face. As he did, Callindra noticed a lot of light coming from an alley ahead and got a sinking feeling in her stomach.

“The building they use for a jail’s in the middle of the square ahead.” He said grimly, “They got torches lit everywhere an a couple dozen guards.  We ain’t getting in.”

“Maybe you aren’t.”  Callindra said calmly, “But I am.  Once I have him free I’ll signal for a diversion, then we can escape.”

Before they could stop her, she slid a hand down Shadowsliver’s blade and drew upon the power of the Weave.  Stepping lightly off the cobblestones she began to run into the air.  It was a difficult working and she was sweating by the time she had gained enough altitude to be out of sight of the guards down in the torchlit square.

She landed on the roof silently and released the spell.  As she had hoped, this wasn’t really a proper jail, just a house made of stone.  The windows weren’t barred, and she was easily able to wedge one of them open and slip inside.  A strange sweet smell met her as she gently slid the window closed behind her.  She didn’t know what it was, but for some reason it made her skin crawl.

After looking around briefly, she opened the door and snuck down a hallway and a set of stairs.  The sound of the guards marching outside the building was almost loud enough to drown out the conversation happening just on the other side of the door.

“Just gut him and throw him in the pit.  I don’t care what that fatass mayor says.  This one is too damn much trouble.”  A sweet and beguiling voice said.  “His friends aren’t coming for him.  We won’t trap them so easily.”

“I will crush that little wench into paste.”  A low voice rumbled.  “Putting on airs, carrying a sword.  BONDING a weapon.  She will die.”

A year ago, these words would have sent Callindra through the door in a fury.  Her losses and experience had taught her to bank the fires of her rage however, and she waited patiently instead.  The exertion of flying to the top of this place had drained her, but she needed an edge if she was going to survive and escape with Holt.  Closing her eyes, she touched Shadowsliver’s hilt and incanted a spell.

The Callindra Chronicles Book 3: A Fall of Stars – Chapter 16

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Callindra strode toward the gate, her armor freshly cleaned, her short hair held in place with wooden pins and Shadowsliver’s jet black length settled across her forearm in a nonthreatening posture.  She was flanked by her brothers; Cronos’s sword hilts bristling over his back and his ragged cloak swaying as he walked and Vilhylm shrouded by the rippling folds of his black cloak strode confidently on the other side.  The hulking form of Kain loomed behind her; his shock of green hair standing in its usual unruly bristle and his scimitar swinging easily at his side.

They must have made an imposing sight because the soldiers at the gate began to swing it shut.  Callindra twisted Shadowsliver through a set of complex motions and when she spoke her voice carried like thunder.

“Do not close the gate.  We come in peace, merely searching for our brother in arms.”  Instead of stopping, this only seemed to make them move faster.

With a curse, she called upon the Weave again, this time drawing the winds from inside the city in a sudden burst that tore the gates free of their grip and flung them wide.  The soldiers began scrambling for weapons and shouting for backup.  By the time they arrived at the gate they faced a forest of spear points.

“There is no need for this.”  Callindra said, disdain in her voice.  “If I wanted you dead you’d be dead.  I have no desire to fight against the living.  My quarrel is with the Taken.”

“Disarm and you will be allowed entrance.”  An imperious voice said from behind the soldiers.  “We do not allow hostile strangers to enter under arms.”

Callindra flipped Shadowsliver back to rest his blade against her left forearm, cradling his hilt in her hand and gesturing with her right to show the chain.  “I cannot put my weapon down.  I am bonded to him and he is tied to me.  Answer me this; has my brother Holt been captured by your guards?”

“I know of no person named Holt.”  The voice said, still sounding peevish.  “We have no extra for freebooting vagabonds, if that is all you wanted then move along before I have my men move you.”

“If you have wounded we have a healer.”  Callindra said easily as though she hadn’t heard his insults.  “If you still take gold or jewels in exchange for trade goods or services we would like to resupply before continuing on our journey.  Also, a night under a proper roof would be welcome as would a bath.  No establishment that we stay in need fear attack; we have fought many times and left only the rotting corpses of our enemies behind.”

At the mention of the healer, whispers rippled through the assembled guards and out past them to the small crowd that was beginning to gather behind them.  The more she talked, the more uneasy the guards became.

“You’re welcome to stay at my Inn lady.”  A jovial voice called from behind the rank of soldiers.  “We don’t have much extra, but we’ll spare what we can for one what can pay and give protection.”

“I am no Lady.”  Callindra said with a derisive snort.  “I will take you up on that offer innkeep.”  Without waiting for the soldiers to move, she began striding toward their spear points.  When the first she encountered was too shocked to down his spear she brushed it aside with an open-handed smack.  To her profound relief the others parted and allowed her to pass.

The man who faced her had clearly been much heavier at some point but now his extra skin sagged where it had once been supported by fat.  Nonetheless he appeared healthy enough and gave her a wide grin.

“Thadrick Castille at your service.”  He said, extending a hand.

“Callindra.”  She said, leaving off the rest of her name but taking his hand in a firm grip.  “I thank you for the offer of hospitality Master Castille.”

The Callindra Chronicles Book 3: A Fall of Stars – Chapter 15

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Once Lorin had gathered the shafts he could, they made their way through the quiet streets, barely pausing to check at intersections before moving forward.  After a half candlemark, Lorin knocked on a nondescript door set in the side of a nondescript wall and there was slight motion in an upstairs window.  The door slid silently open a few moments later and they slid inside.

A beautiful young human boy waited just inside the door with a bowl of water.  Lorin took some and splashed it on his face.  After a moment, Durrak did the same, feeling the blood of the Abyssal creatures he’d slain boil off his skin as though burned with a torch.

“Holy water?  Where do you be getting holy water?”  He asked, slightly shocked.  “I no do be seeing such a thing for ages.”

“I am a vessel that fills with the Light.”  The boy said in a solemn voice.  “The Light always shines brightest in the darkness.  I am glad that you have come Master Caverstorm.”

“No do be calling me by that name boy.”  Durrak frowned.  “We have no been introduced and I no do be taking truck with gods.”

“My apologies.”  The boy said, “I am called Kris.  Your reluctance to face your fate has but small impact on that fate.  Meaning no disrespect sir.”

“We have had a tiring few days Kris.  Please let us in and to the baths.”  Lorin said, pushing the boy gently aside.  “I have little desire to watch you and this meat grinder of a Dwarf engage in a theological fencing match in the hall’s entryway.”

Durrak gave the boy a level look but followed Lorin through a passageway and down a flight of stairs to a large communal bath.  After undressing and sluicing as much of the gore and grime first off his armor and then off his body, he scrubbed his with harsh lye soap.  It burned as it came in contact with the myriad of cuts he had earned in the fight; it was a good feeling.   He rinsed again before wading into the steaming water of the pool to soak.

“You certainly managed to make a rapid impression.”  Lorin said, giving him a quizzical look.  “What was all that about?”

“I no do wish to talk about it.”  Durrak said, laying back against the wall of the bath and reaching for his cigar pouch.  He withdrew one and took a drag on it, reveling in the harsh bite of the bright blue smoke.  “Be asking the brat if you wish.”

“Has something to do with that dragon and your clan eh?”  Lorin asked.  “I shouldn’t have asked.  Pass me a cigar?”

Durrak grunted and took a strangely twisted cheroot from the pouch that immediately burst into a copper colored flame and passed it to the Elf.  Lorin gave the cigar a dubious look but took it anyway.

“Where do those come from?”  He asked, smelling the slightly acrid smoke suspiciously.  “Why are they always lit when you take them out?”

“The do be coming from inside the pouch.”  Durrak said with a wry grin, “They do be lit because it do be a magic pouch.”

“I saw you putting things in there though.”  The Elf persisted, “Why do you do that?”

“Nothing do come from nothing.”  He said with a shrug, “The Dwarf who I did trade tales for it did be saying putting things in did be making it interesting.”

Lorin took a drag and his eyebrows rose in surprise.  “It tastes … like the heartblood of the first deer I stalked and took myself and like honey and … memories.”

Durrak lay back against the wall of the bath and tried to relax.  First he needed to find Cerioth the Black.  Then if he couldn’t kill her he would die trying and after that it would be time to settle up with Thraingaar.  Either way he would be reunited with his family soon.

The Callindra Chronicles Book 3: A Fall of Stars – Chapter 12

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She had closed her eyes for only a few moments but when she awoke to a gentle touch on her right shoulder that told her an attack wasn’t imminent the sun had moved halfway to the horizon.  Cronos gave her a moment to awaken before rolling over into his cloak and falling asleep almost immediately.

Callindra stood up slowly, working the kinks out of her shoulders and back before working through a pair of Korumn that served to awaken her body and mind.  They weren’t a substitute for strong tea, but they would have to do.  After half a candlemark on watch, she began to let her worries get the better of her and was working through it by studying the map briefly to calculate how far they still had to travel when something caught her eye.

A slight motion at the edge of their small camp got her attention but she didn’t turn to look.  Instead, she kept looking at the map and allowed her awareness of the intruder to grow.  It wasn’t Holt, of that she was certain.

For one thing the old man had this annoying habit of sneaking up on her just to show her he could; she was certain she never would have seen him coming.  This figure was also much smaller; probably half his height.  Although Holt could have just been crawling she doubted it.  He’d never had to do so before.

Another barely perceptible motion sent her spinning into action.  Shadowsliver swept into a wide arc as she leaped forward twirling her entire body in a circle as she let his chain slip through her fingers to give her fifteen feet of extra range.  A startled squeak came from the dead bush as her blade cut cleanly through it only a hand and a half above the ground.

She whipped Shadowsliver back and snatched him out of the air, still running toward the intruder and a boy of perhaps ten summers rolled out showing empty hands.  He had a panicked expression on his face that seemed a little too earnest to be totally believable.  The jet-black blade whistled down toward him and stopped a finger from the tip of his nose; his twin tips humming menacingly.

“Wait, don’t chop me up or blast me lady!”  He said, “I’m coming to warn you, your friend got caught and they’re holding him in the tower of pain, but he managed to slip me a message for you.”

The words came out in a tumbled rush, but it almost seemed rehearsed.  Callindra’s eyes narrowed as she considered him.  “What is my name?”  She demanded, not moving the sword.

“He told me it was Callindra, but that flowery of a name don’t seem like it fits a warrior.”  The boy said, his voice not nearly as fearful as it had been a few moments earlier.

She had a sneaking suspicion that his change in tone was deliberate.  Very slowly lowered Shadowsliver and reversed the blade so that it lay up her forearm in was would look like a much less threatening gesture.  Not that it would impede her ability to strike all that much.

“Come over and sit.  I have water if you’re thirsty, and we have plenty of hardtack if you’re hungry.”  He nodded and followed her over to where the others rested.  She saw all of them move slightly as though settling back to sleep and knew they’d seen what she was facing and decided she could handle it.

Callindra rummaged through her pack, deliberately turning her back on him and kept her senses alert.  Removing a water skin and half a flat biscuit she turned to see him standing in the same spot he had been.  She handed them over without comment.

“I ain’t starving, but only a fool turns down food.”  He said, “My name’s Reed.  Yours is really Callindra?”

“It is.  Tell me what happened to Holt.”

“You gonna sheath that blade Callindra?  Naked steel makes me nervous and I swear I ain’t no threat.”  He took a drink of water and nibbled at the bread.

“He doesn’t have a sheath.”  She said shortly, “Answer the question.”

“Oh, uh the townsfolk found him skulking around and didn’t believe him that he wasn’t sick.  There’s rumors of greeneyes what don’t actually have green eyes and look like people.”  Reed said, his eyes focusing on Shadowsliver’s forked blade.  “They said if he wasn’t no greeneyes why would he be sneaking around and he tried to tell them there wasn’t no way to know if THEY was … Taken was what he called them and then the guards they’d had sneaking up behind him all tackled him.

“He put up a good scrap, but there ain’t a lot any one single person’s gonna do against ten.”  Reed’s mouth tightened into a hard line and he glared at the hardtack in his hand for a moment.  “I thought maybe I’d be able to help him out, so I snuck up when they wasn’t looking and whispered through his cell window.  He told me to come and see you, but only after he made me say I wasn’t just trying to find you so I could rat you out.”

The Callindra Chronicles Book 3: A Fall of Stars – Chapter 10

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“There do be folk living inside that?”  Durrak said, disbelief clear in his voice.  His hand reached into his belt pouch and he withdrew a cigar despite how ill advised it might be.  As always, it came out lit and he took a deep drag.  The smoke was vibrant purple in color and seemed to disperse rather more quickly than normal.

“A great many of us live there still, and there are also those who are trapped in the protective barriers.  We haven’t figured out how to get inside them yet and have no idea what kind of conditions they must be enduring.  The smaller ones especially, unless they have magical means they’re like as not all dead.”

“To be finding any survivors at all do be more than I was thinking to find after seeing the standing ranks and the destruction of the battlefield.”  Durrak mused, “There did be twenty million or more living within Starvale’s walls.  How many do be living still?”

“No way of knowing.”  Lorin said shortly, “There are perhaps two hundred of us living in a collection of fortified manor houses.  I believe there are more beneath the city, but none of the emissaries we sent below have returned.  I know of at least three other such defended locations with similar numbers.  Most of the city has fallen as you can plainly see, I expect less than one in a thousand survived.”

“Gods and demons.”  Durrak swore, “I did be expecting it to be bad, but that do be a slaughter.”

“Yes.”  Lorin agreed, running his hands through his long straight hair.  “It was terrible.  The only upside is that with so many dead there hasn’t been much of a shortage of food and supplies.  We can’t last for long though.  Without being able to replenish our supplies we can’t survive for more than another month or two.  That, of course, also begs the question of why the Spawn haven’t just wiped us out.”

“I do be thinking it do involve those.”  Durrak gestured with the stub of his cigar at the top of one of the largest floating spheres that could be seen over the hill.  “Until they do find a way to enter the spheres they do be conserving their resources.  It only do be good tactics.”

Lorin grunted, “That makes a certain amount of sense.  I didn’t consider the fact that they might be smart enough to use tactics.  They’ve never shown any inclination of the sort before.”

“The do be led by Cerioth The Black.  She do have a mind devious and strong will.”  He thrust the still burning end of the cigar back into his belt pouch an added a handful of dead leaves from a nearby tree.

Lorin raised an eyebrow, looking at the belt pouch with interest.  “You know of the dragon?”

“Aye.  My father did be slaying her mate.  Her vengeance did be destroying the halls of my ancestors.”  Durrak took a deep breath, “I do be intending to be returning the favor.”

“Forgive my impertinence sir Dwarf, as we have only recently met, but are you certain you are entirely sane?”  Lorin’s voice was carefully neutral.

“After what I do be seeing in the last year.  No.”

Lorin barked a short laugh.  “Good.  At least you’re realistic and honest.

The Callindra Chronicles Book 3: A Fall of Stars – Chapter 6

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Callindra burst out laughing and she reached into a belt pouch, placing a sapphire the size of her thumbnail on the bar.  “Drinks are on me.”  She declared with a smile and the bar erupted into cheers.  The barkeep’s eyes bulged at the sight of the gemstone and he began pouring drinks for the rowdy crowd who began swarming the bar.

The bar crowd began to get louder and more raucous, but a troupe of musicians began playing and the groups of patrons split up to their own tables, laughing and singing along to their favorite verses.  The night wore on and Holt found himself at the bar next to the trio.  The girl was well in her cups and seemed to be attempting to tell a story that involved a daring rescue of a group of villagers from a cave of goblins led by a group of nefarious humans.  He couldn’t be sure if she was one of the villagers or one of the rescuers or if it was just a tale she’d heard.

Glancing around, Holt saw that half the patrons were asleep on their tables.  Everyone hadn’t drunk that much.  He hadn’t drunk enough for his head to be this fuzzy either.  The last thing he thought before he lost consciousness was how stupid he had been for dropping his guard because of a pair of pretty eyes.

–

Callindra awoke with a blinding headache to the sound of shouting voices.  It took her a moment to realize that the voices weren’t shouting at all, but were talking in a normal tone; it was only that her headache was causing the perceived increase in volume.

“I’m telling you Shen, we can’t break the god rotting thing.”  Said a low rumbling voice she vaguely recognized.  “It shattered my axe and broke that chisel and the hammer besides.  I tried cutting the chain with the blade and it shocked me.  Near as burned my hand to the bone.”

“Well we can’t very well send her off with a weapon, now can we?”  This one was higher.  Callindra knew this one; it was the bartender from last night.  “Either we kill her and miss out on a hefty payday or we figure this out.  We can’t shelter anyone, if we do they void the contact.”

She pried her eyes open and turned her head to look in the direction of the voices.  Her sword’s chain was pulled tight against her wrist and led out through the bars of a cell to a crude smithy setup.  Hundreds of iron manacles hung on the walls and dozens of folk she vaguely remembered from the bar the night before were slumped against the wall.  With rising horror, Callindra could see their hands had been shackled together, pins forged into the manacles.

Adrenaline surged through her and she pulled on the chain with all her strength.  Shadowsliver leaped off the anvil, sliced deeply into Torver’s arm and spun through the air towards the cell.  Torver screamed in pain and Shen dove to one side to avoid the razor-sharp blade as it spun past his face.  The sword cut halfway through one of the thick iron bars of her cell and stood there quivering.

Callindra struggled to her feet and pulled her sword free.  “You should have killed me.  When you had the chance.”  She panted, “Because now it’s too late.”  With a two-handed swing, Shadowsliver hacked completely through the tops of three of the bars.  Her backswing took cleaved through the bottoms of those same bars and they clattered to the stone floor at the same time as Shen pointed a hand at her.

Five bolts of sickly green light lanced out from his fingers and burned into her body, but Callindra stepped through the bars and deliberately stalked toward him with death in her eyes through the smoke of burning clothes and smoking flesh.  Torver threw a heavy forge hammer and her sword blurred, cutting it out of the air.

“Time to pay my bar tab.”  She snarled and spun her sword in a fast arc by the chain before letting go and sending him arrowing across the room and through Shen’s torso.  A crackle of electricity leaped down the chain and blasted him across the room to land with his arm in the forge fire.

Torver stepped on the chain and reached for it, but Callindra sprinted around him with the speed of a gale, whipping the chain around his injured arm and pulling hard.  The big man grunted in pain but took hold of the chain with his other hand and began to reel her in.

Callindra laughed and sent another jolt of electricity through the chain he held so tightly.  The magic she wielded charred his hand to the bone.  His body twisted in agony and the chain burned into his arm with a sickening sizzling sound.  Torver fell to the stone floor twitching and jerking in his death throes.

With a practiced tug on the chain, Callindra shattered the charred bones of her foe’s arm and brought Shadowsliver back to her waiting hand.  The initial adrenaline rush was wearing off and she was beginning to feel the effects of her night of drinking along with whatever drug they had used to sedate her.  The door on the other side of the room opened and a man with burning green eyes strode into the room.

“Ah.  It appears we have a lively one.”  He said in a dead voice, his lips hardly moving.  “How interesting.”

The Callindra Chronicles Book 3: A Fall of Stars – Chapter 5

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A man of indeterminate middle years walked into the crowded common room of the Fox and Pullet.  Straightening his hat, he hung his cloak and bow on the hooks inside the door reserved for weapons.  The inn was tucked away in a small valley that seemed to be prospering despite the area that surrounded it being desolated by the fires and plagues that had affected so much of the world.

Just as the door closed behind him, Holt was startled as it was slammed open once again.  A travel worn trio entered, cloaks pulled tight against the rising wind.  The first was a slight figure with a long sword hilt protruding above her left shoulder.  She was closely followed by a young man in chainmaile armor with twin swords strapped to his back and a tall figure in a swirling dark cloak.

“Gods and Demons you’d better have something to drink in this place!”  The leader said, “I’m so dry I’d drink purple hippogriff!”

The hunter’s eyes widened as he took in her appearance.  The skin of her arms had a latticework of healed scars; most of them faded until they were barely visible lines.  The two and a half hand hilt of the sword was far too large to fit the size of the slender four foot long blade.  A delicate looking silver chain ran from the faceted pommel of the sword to a gleaming bracelet on her right wrist.

It was her eyes that caught and held him though.  Tempestuous seafoam green with a glitter of mischief and humor, although there were grief lines around them.  Far too many lines for one as young as she seemed to be.  The world wasn’t as kind as it had been when Holt was her age he supposed.

The innkeeper waved at the large man leaning casually against the wall and he stepped forward.  “Have to leave your weapons at the door.”  Torver said in his mild baritone, “Inn policy.  Makes for much more polite company.”

“As much as I would love to comply, as you can clearly see that isn’t an option for me.”  The girl said with a smile, lifting her right hand and shaking it.  The chain tinkled merrily.  “We are a little attached to one another.”

“I can fix that easily enough.”  Torver said, patting his wide bladed axe with a smile, “If you’d like me to I could take care of that problem for you.”

“Oh really?”  Her eyes glittered with amusement and a tinge of malice.  “A big strong man like you would help out a poor weak girl like myself?”

“I don’t wanna be responsible for damaging your weapon little one.”  He said, narrowing his eyes.  “I’ve seen this game before.”

“Let everyone witness!  If this gargantuan lump of muscles damages my Shadowsliver’s chain I will not hold him accountable for damages any more than he would hold me accountable if it was his axe instead that was broken.”  The girl said, her poorly cut reddish brown hair bristling like an angry cat’s as she addressed the bar.  The patrons were all paying attention; this was the first bit of sport they’d had in days.

Torver laughed, a booming roar of amusement.  “Done, and if I can’t cut the chain, I guess we have no choice but to allow you entry.”

The girl didn’t draw her sword, but instead laid her wrist on the bench, a heavy thing made of an oak log split lengthwise.  Torver’s laugh died and his mouth stayed open in astonishment.  “You’re not gonna put the blade down there?  What if I miss?”

“You think I’m going to risk damaging the wire wrap on the hilt?  You think I’m putting HIM in danger because of YOUR stupid rules?”  Her voice was genuinely indignant, “Or is it your own skill you doubt?”

“Callindra.”  The figure in the black cloak said in a low bass voice, “Keep a leash on your temper.  The man is just doing his job.”

“Or maybe it’s your skill with that ungainly monstrosity you doubt?”  Callindra continued, still glaring at Torver.

With a speed belied by his huge frame, Torver swung his axe in a whistling arc.  It slammed into the chain with a musical tinkling sound and tiny pieces of metal flew about the room, bouncing off walls and clattering against tankards.  Most of the people in the room burst out laughing and went back to their drinks.

“I hope that chain wasn’t important.”  The bouncer said with a sympathetic look and wrenched his axe out of the bench.  Half of the blade stayed embedded in the oak, a neat crack running from where it split over the tiny chain.  The room went from raucous laughter to stunned silence.

Callindra pulled the chain free from the crack in the wood and winced.  “Sorry.  I probably shouldn’t have goaded you into that.  I get unreasonable when I don’t have a bath or a drink for a week.”

Torver just stared at his broken weapon in disbelief.  “Gods and demons.  Who in the nine hells are you?”

“Thirsty.  We’re thirsty.”  Callindra said firmly, and moved past him towards the bar.  “Barkeep, if it makes you feel better you can keep him behind the bar.  But don’t you dare try and touch him.”  She withdrew the sword from where it was thrust beneath her armor with a practiced motion and wiped off the black steel with a practiced motion before setting the weapon carefully behind the bar with a rattle of chain.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”  The barkeep said faintly, placing a tankard, a bottle of wine and a jug of spirits on the bar.  “I didn’t know what your preference was Mistress.”

The Callindra Chronicles Book 3: A Fall of Stars – Chapter 4

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“Good alewife do be bringing Felix a tankard.”  Durrak said, “It do be many a moon since I have shared a cup with another Dwarf.”

Felix slapped him on the back hard enough to nearly knock him from his seat. “That is indeed most kind Durrak Caverstorm.  Perhaps I can offer something in return?”

“May I be imposing on you for one of those cigars?”  Durrak asked, “They do be smelling of home.”

“That may be inadvisable my friend.”  Said Felix, but he produced one anyway and handed it over.  “They don’t often seem to be the same.”

Durrak took the cigar and smelled it.  The scent was of brimstone and iron.  The smell of the Adamantine Forge itself, the tip was glowing sullenly, already lit.  “This do smell even more of home.”  He said, drawing on it to light it properly.  It took a bit of puffing but when the cigar lit, the smoke was an acrid yellow and diffused very quickly.  Angry red sparks shot out and split as very high quality steel would.

“You are a smith.”  Felix said; a statement not a question.  “You are from Farenholm itself.  I know that accent and the smoke does not often lead me astray.”

The alewife brought a pair of foaming tankards and set them before the pair with a smile.  “Roast is near done.  Would your friend like a meal as well?”

“My dear, I would be forever grateful for a meal.”  Felix said.

“I do be accounting for his meal also.”  Durrak said at the same time, putting another handful of gold on the bar and waving away Felix’s protest.  “It do be a pleasure to share the company of a kinsman.  I do be insisting Felix.”

The cigar, for all its strange scent and odd behavior, brought a tingle to Durrak’s tongue and a pleasant thrill to his senses.  The smoke was harsh, but he found it was much like working at the forge, something he had always enjoyed.

“I take such kindness to heart and insist on returning it in kind.”  Felix said gravely, “What would you have me trade?”

“The cigar and the companionship do be more than sufficient.”  Durrak said.  “Did you be knowing Farenholm?  Did you be walking the ancient halls of my ancestors?  Do you be knowing of Cerioth the Black, Bane of Ignitium?”

“Certainly I once walked the halls of Farenholm.”  Felix said with a wistful smile, “Her tall arches and endless caverns are a bright spot in my long memories.  The splendor and grandeur of the King’s front hall has stayed in my mind as one of the triumphs of mortal engineering and craftsmanship.

“As for your other question; I heard a report that she was seen near Hellgate keep.” Felix said, “But I didn’t see that myself so I can’t speak for the accuracy of that particular rumor.  Have a care speaking that name aloud my friend.  Ill luck comes to those who invoke the names of those fell things who have made compacts with dark forces for power.”

“When?”  Durrak asked, his voice sounding harsher than it had before.

“I heard the rumor a month ago.”  Said Felix, “The man I spoke to said he’d seen the dragon fly out of a swirling cloud of black smoke that rained emerald green rain down on the ground.  He didn’t stay to watch, even abandoned his herd and ran until his horse was blown.  I don’t know more than that.”

“I do be going there.”  Durrak said flatly, “If I no did need to resupply I no would delay one moment.”

“Now I see the resemblance.”  Felix said, “You father-“

“Did be a fool.”  Durrak interrupted.  “He did embark on a mission knowing it did be the undoing of my people.”

“Perhaps.  However, I seem to remember the Moragainnag stating that the doom would be worse if he did not set forth.”  Felix said, pausing to take another lit cigar from his pouch and flick the stub of his first into the fire.  “I was there when the doom of Farenholm was pronounced.  Unlike most of your folk I had the wisdom to leave.  If I’d thought for a moment they’d disregard her words I’d have tried harder to convince them.  I am sorry.”

The pewter mug in Durrak’s hand shrieked in protest as his hand tightened on it, mashing the thick metal into an hourglass shape.  The dwarf blinked in surprise and unclenched his fist.  “I do be sorry Alewife, I do be paying for the damage.”

She swiftly replaced the mug with a fresh one full of ale.  “Not to worry master Dwarf.”  She said, looking at the mug with wide eyes.  “These things happen ye ken?”

“I do be insisting.”  Durrak placed a platinum piece in her free hand.  “I no do wish to be an unwelcome guest.  I did simply lose control, it no do be anything.  Please do be thinking nothing of it.”

She took his gold without further comment and retreated behind the bar, setting the mug carefully on a shelf behind the bar.  Filling a fresh tankard with beer, she returned and set it in front of him without meeting his eyes and left without speaking.

“I do be spreading fear.”  Durrak said sadly, “I no do wish to be a harbinger of fear and despair.”

“None of us do.”  Felix said, “Doesn’t change that what we know changes how we influence the world.”

Durrak drained his tankard in a single long pull.  “Aye.  Our desires no do mean a bedamned thing.”

Felix put his hand on Durrak’s shoulder and squeezed.  “That tale requires something in return.”  He said solemnly and placed the cigar pouch on the counter.  “The wizard who traded this to me warned me not to keep it too long.  I find the results got more interesting when I began adding other things to it.”

Durrak made as if to protest, but Felix smiled broadly.  “Keep it my friend.  Keep it and remember this day as I fear pleasant memories will be few and far between in days to come.”

The Callindra Chronicles Book 3: A Fall of Stars – Chapter 3

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Durrak Caverstorm; Battlemaster of the Drakanda style and sole survivor of Farenholm trudged down the road at a mile eating pace.  It didn’t look like he was moving very quickly, but his short legs moved steadily, not slowing when going up a steep incline or indeed at all until the sun reached its zenith.  He might not have stopped even then, but a roadside inn and rest hove into view and he decided it was worth a look.

The prodigious bag of provisions he had been carrying had shrunk drastically over the last few weeks and if these folk had anything to spare he would buy it and damn the cost.  Shifting the straps of his pack he transferred his Gisarme to slant across his right shoulder as he approached The Ox and Cart.  Smelling the scent of cooking meat made his mouth water as he rapped smartly on the door with the butt of his polearm.

It had been a year since he’d won his title and the world had changed substantially during that time.  Folk were less trusting and he had discovered seeing an obviously capable traveler who was alone sometimes made them more nervous so it paid to be up front.

“Hello the Inn!”  He said in a voice that would carry but hopefully not inspire fear.

“Who’s that then?”  A woman said from within, “No need to rattle the door off the hinges; come on in if you can pay and bugger off it you can’t!”

This was a pleasant surprise; many of the people he’d found didn’t take coin anymore.  “I do be able to pay alewife; what do that delicious scent be?”  He pushed the door open and strode inside; his Dwarven eyes piercing the slight gloom with ease.

The room was set in a familiar pattern low tables with benches instead of chairs and a small bar at one end next to a hearth where a haunch of meat was turning on a spit.  The woman who regarded him with a jaded eye as he entered was shockingly young; perhaps fifteen summers, although she took in his appearance with ease that suggested she had grown up in a tavern.

“Let’s see the coin and you can have what you want.”  She said, touching a crossbow that was cocked and loaded sitting over the taps.  “We don’t have prejudice against Dwarves or adventurers as long as your coin is good.”

Durrak grinned, setting his pack and polearm down on a rack by the doorway before walking up to the bar and plunking down a half dozen gold.  “Lady, please do be letting me know when this runs out.  I do be famished and parched from many long days on the road.”

She brightened a bit at the sight of the gold and even further when she scratched them with a wicked looking belt knife and revealed them to be pure.  Pulling him a large wooden tankard of frothy ale, she set it down on the bar.  “This will help with the thirst master Dwarf.  That roast won’t be done for another hour, but I got some cheese and bread, maybe some leftover sausages.”

“I do gladly be sampling your ale and nibbles until the roast do be ready.”  Durrak said, drinking deeply and smacking his lips.  The ale was a bit light for his taste, but it was quite refreshing.

As Durrak ate and drank, several more folk entered chatting amicably and ordering drinks and inquiring about the roast.  They took him in without comment, a few nodding politely and some staring but not in an aggressive manner.  All of them had also put a weapon of some sort aside as they entered even though they were obviously villagers, not adventuring types.

Thunder rumbled outside, but no rain fell.  It hadn’t rained for ages and the land was parched and dry.  The winds seemed to be blowing erratically of late, not bringing the moisture from the sea to nourish the soil.  All signs of bad times and possibly worse to come.

The door opened to admit another traveler, his cloak black and ragged at the ends.  Setting an immense pack down next to Durrak’s with a heavy thump he grinned and rubbed at his huge red beard.  A fellow Dwarf; a rarity in these parts.  He stumped up to the bar and sat next to Durrak.

“How’s the ale?”  He asked in Dwarven, giving him a grin.

“Light, but quite potable in quantity.” Durrak said in the same language, returning the grin.  “From where do you hail?”

“I am a traveler.  Felix is my name.” The other replied, offering a hand thick with calluses.

“My name is Durrak Caverstorm.”  Durrak said, shaking the offered hand.

“Caverstorm?”  Felix asked, “Have you the title from the Drakanda school?  Never did I think to see the Mistress of that school fall from aught but old age.”

“I took her title.”  Durrak said, feeling the sadness of that memory even now.  “Took it by fair trial of combat.  One of many regrets I carry on my shoulders.”

“Ah.” Felix said, reaching into a pouch and removing a smoldering cigar.  He puffed it alight to a small explosion of purple sparks.  The smoke he exhaled was bright blue and sank to the floor instead of rising.  The smoke had the scent of a meadow high in the mountains in the dead of winter.

“I have been traveling for some time and have not seen another of our kind.”  Durrak ventured, “Do you know how our people fare elsewhere?”

“Farenholm has fallen.  Vanterholm stood last I saw, although it was beset by hordes of goblins.”  Felix replied, “I do not stay in one place long.”

Durrak saw the looks the others were giving them and continued in the common tongue, “Perhaps we do be doing better to converse in a language the others do be knowing?  I no do want to cause suspicion.”

“Yes, perhaps that would be best.”  Felix said in unaccented common, “It has merely been so long since I spoke to a fellow Dwarf in my native language.  My apologies to our gracious host.”