22. Harper
22
HARPER
T he world faded in and out once they reached the gates to Keldheim. Harper swayed with exhaustion from one step to the next, forcing her sluggish feet to move and begging her fading mind to stay awake. Before her, a sheer rock face soared into the heavens. Above, low clouds drew in and darkness settled, shrouding the summits. The rock blazed with light, embellished with metal carvings as far as Harper could see. Golden light danced from the stone, making the sea of metal glitter invitingly. Long, slim, octagonal holes punctured the rock at regular intervals, through which more light spilled from the bowels of Keldheim.
Great stone gates rose before them, complete with the same metal details. They barred the way into the heart of the mountain realm, and thudded open to let the company pass. Instantly, the rhythmic tramp of the dwarves’ steps magnified tenfold, echoing as they passed along a high, wide tunnel. Harper and her companions followed the dwarves as the gates boomed shut behind them, sealing them into the mountain.
It was surprisingly light inside. Metal-and-glass lanterns filled with warming glows lined the walls and hung from high ceilings. Harper breathed a sigh of wonder as they stepped from the tunnel farther into the mountain. It was as if the entire interior was hollow. Buildings and ways climbed the rock, but none were open to the sky, though far above them all, a great orb of light cast the muted glow of a sunset upon them.
Ducts—some carrying flowing water, others roads and paths—spanned the space upon giant columns that disappeared into the depths. Harper dared to look over the side of the bridge they had emerged onto, but her stomach swooped as she saw just how far down the dwarven city went.
Ragnar wasn’t joking , Harper thought as she recalled how he had told her that Keldheim was vast and sprawling, only a little of it above the level of the ground outside the mountain. Jarl Halvar led them across the terrifying abyss, under which the mountain continued down, filled with dwarven dwellings and buildings built into the very mountain itself. They took another turn onto a sloping ramp that led down one level and then another, until Harper was entirely lost—and when she looked up, could not see where they had entered the mountain.
“Dismissed,” Jarl Halvar called to his troops. They sped up with an extra spring in their step as they broke formation. “You may follow me,” he added to Aedon, Harper, and Erika, his troubled gaze flicking between them. He removed his helmet, revealing a slightly balding head of wiry hair, turned, and led them to a grand pair of doors.
“This is the konigshalle, the king’s hall,” he added for their benefit, and Harper was glad. Her companions might already have been familiar with the place to any degree, but already, she felt as though she was drowning, swept away in a tide she could not fight against, into this new place. What ought she to expect here? Would this court be as dark and terrible as Tournai’s? Would the dwarven ruler be as cruel and dangerous as the King of Pelenor? Her nails bit into her palms as she staggered after Aedon with the last of her strength.
At Jarl Halvar’s bidding, guards in uniform much like his own, though with different colours and embellishments woven in, heaved the doors open to reveal a great hall. Tall slits, placed where windows would have been, were filled with what seemed to be a starry night.
“Elven magic,” Aedon murmured to Harper as he walked with her and Erika. “Our gift to the dwarves in ages gone past. Have you met a dwarven king before?”
Harper shook her head. What a preposterous question. She did not have the energy to voice the thought.
“Dwarves respect strength, not delicate flouncing like the elven courts. Fist to your chest when he greets you. Bow at the waist, sharp and neat. Stand tall.”
Harper nodded, committing his instruction to memory.
Halvar stopped before them. They halted abruptly too, their feet crunching the neat mats of woven straw beneath them.
“Konig Korrin.” Halvar greeted the king exactly as Aedon had instructed Harper to. The king bowed his head in response, but his attention focused upon the three of them—strangers in his domain.
Harper, keeping her eyes lowered in respect, tried to perceive him. A full head of thick, black hair. A beard that tumbled down to his knees but held back in elaborate braids threaded with more treasures than she had ever seen. Tattoos flowed along his hands and the edges of his face, hinting at unfamiliar patterns and runes—just like Ragnar’s. Fine clothes and leathers adorned him, tooled with patterns that matched the gates of Keldheim in both style and metal embellishments, gilded into glorious harmony with those embellishments in his beard. Thick boots gave him a strong, unshakable stance before them as he rose from his angular, carved stone throne.
“Jarl Halvar.” The king’s voice was deep and booming, just like the doors to his realm. “Who do you bring before me? The elf, I recognise.” He spoke in Common Tongue with fluency, but Harper could not tell by his tone if he said it with fondness or malice.
“Konig, allow me to present Aedon Lindhir Riel of House Felrian.”
Aedon bowed to the king with his fist to his chest, then stood tall again.
“Harper of Caledan, and Erika of the Indis nomad peoples.”
Harper and Erika bowed, too. Harper’s heart hammered as she did so.
Jarl Halvar spoke in a formal tone. “Welcome to our realm, travellers. The realm of Korrin Dúrnir, Konig of Dwarvenkin and Valtivar, ninth of his name, the Goblin-Cleaver, the Jewel-Blessed, and the Defender of the Mountain. What seek you?”
Aedon looked to the jarl, who gave an almost imperceptible nod. He cleared his throat. “Konig, we bring grave news. My companions and I encountered goblins on our journey to Keldheim. One of our companions was taken. We know not where.”
“Ah, yes,” the konig said, nodding. “Your friend, the Aerian, arrived and gave us news of this. Send for him,” he instructed the jarl, who bowed and left.
“You will help us, Konig?”
Korrin pursed his lips and turned away to pace the hall, his hands clasped behind his back. “No. We can offer no assistance in this.”
Aedon’s eyes widened. “Konig, he is your kin. Surely?—”
Korrin turned and glared at Aedon for his insubordination. “The goblins are a nuisance at present, as your own journey has shown you. Our interests do not lie in delving into their midst to rescue one dwarf. There are unfortunate casualties. Our priorities are in the defence of our strongholds and roads.”
Aedon’s face reddened. Harper could tell he longed to snap back, but to her surprise, he swallowed his anger and pride. “Our friend is Ragnar,” Aedon said delicately. “Ragnar Dúrnir.”
Korrin stiffened. His head whipped around to fix Aedon in an eagle-like stare. “ Him? ”
Something cold slithered in Harper’s gut. There was something more here at play than what she knew—and Ragnar’s past was not as uncomplicated as she had thought.
“Yes, Konig.”
“What makes you think that would change my mind?” Korrin’s voice was ice cold as he turned away once more.
Aedon swallowed. “I had hoped the plight of your own kin might move you, Konig.”
Korrin gritted his teeth. “There is more at stake than you are privy to, master elf. Even my own kin does not come before the safety of my people.”
At that moment, Brand entered through the great doors, shadowed by Jarl Halvar. Harper’s heart leapt to see him well but stuttered at his grim expression and the dark look he cast towards Aedon that promised of things which needed to be said in private.
“Show the guests to comfortable quarters,” Korrin commanded. Halvar beckoned to the three of them, who bowed to the king once more and hastened to Brand.
“Well met, friend,” Aedon said in hushed tones.
“This way,” said Halvar.
Brand gave Aedon a meaningful glance before switching his attention back to Halvar. “Any word from Afnirheim yet, Jarl?” he asked.
The jarl’s shoulders hunched. “Not that I’ve heard.” His tone was clipped.
“Dark tidings.”
“Indeed.”
“The king will send you to investigate?”
Halvar narrowed his eyes. “That is none of your business, Aerian.”
Aedon raised his eyes to Brand, who nodded subtly to him—Harper understood. He had something to say, and it was not for the dwarf king’s ears. Harper looked between them, nonplussed. Surely, they had failed and Ragnar was doomed. What else could they do?
Brand watched the door to their rooms close before he turned to them all. For a change, he stood tall inside, his wings unscathed by the ceiling, which towered over even him. Harper brushed her arms briskly. It was not overly cold to say they were encased in stone, but she could not shake the pervasive chill creeping under her skin. The faelights bobbing high above them bathed them in warm light, illuminating a dwelling built into the mountain. Solid walls were their only reminder that they were deep in the mountain.
“What have you found?” Aedon asked.
“It’s worse than we fear. Afnirheim has fallen silent. No news from there in over a week. All those who set forth have not returned. It would seem Korrin is fearful, for he musters the dwarves in secret, yet he will not openly see fit to send a full company to investigate.”
“It’s impossible,” said Erika as she scouted each room off the corridor with her blade out, just in case, before nodding at them. “Those disorganised savages don’t have the brainpower to conquer a bucket, let alone a dwarven city filled with trained jarls and their commands.”
“Naturally,” said Brand. “And yet, there have been some unsavoury reports, by the sounds of it. I believe this has something to do with the goblins, but I doubt they have taken the stronghold. That is preposterous. However, it’s entirely possible they have taken the ways, which is no good for the reputation of safe travelling through Valtivar. You can bet that Korrin worries on it.”
“Then why does he dally?” asked Erika with a sneer. “I thought these dwarves were supposed to be strong and decisive.”
“Because to muster any response at all means he acknowledges the threat,” said Harper. The others looked at her, surprised. “I’ve seen it before. When I was young, pirates raided our coast. The lord would not intervene because he did not want to admit he had any weakness in the first place.”
Brand narrowed his eyes. “Precisely, Harper. And even his own kin’s peril may not sway that.”
“Who is Ragnar?” she asked, furrowing her eyebrows. The others shared glances that were not lost on her. She snorted impatiently. “Oh, come on. There’s clearly something everyone—except me—knows. Ragnar isn’t here to answer for himself, so you might as well just tell me. There’s little use keeping me in the dark now.” It soured her to speak so harshly to them, but being the only one who did not know what everyone else spoke of infuriated her.
Brand pursed his lips. “She’s right,” he said to Aedon.
Aedon shrugged. “Fine. But don’t let it change how you think of him. He’s still the kind-hearted, generous, level-headed Ragnar you’ve come to know.” His words sounded more like a warning to Harper. What could be so very bad that she did not know?