76. The Blood of the Mountain
Chapter 76
The Blood of the Mountain
22 nd Day of the Blood Moon
Dwarven outpost, Lodhar Mountains – Winter, Year 3081 After Doom
Kira gripped the haft of the axe, allowing her fingers to savour the familiar touch of the leather and the cold embrace of the steel. She was still less than half herself, but Hafaesir would grant her the strength to fight, as he always had.
She stood in the main chamber of the outpost headquarters. The silence was such that she would have almost thought she was alone were it not for the ten Queensguard standing about the room, the five stationed at the door, and the other ten at the headquarters’ entrance. Vikmar, the new High Commander of her guard, was a statue by the main window, his hands clasped behind his back, his eyes watching everything that moved outside.
Footfalls sounded, boots slapping stone, and the door creaked open.
“Good,” Erani said, her voice bouncing off the stone. “You’re going to need that axe.” Kira turned to see her sister setting a dwarf down in the chair on the opposite side of the central table, a thick black sack over his head and his hands bound. “Rikber Lars, scholar of Hafaesir.”
Kira’s uncle, Alrick, and her three cousins stood with Erani, as well as half a score of warriors from the various kingdoms.
“Are the sack and bindings necessary?” Kira asked, allowing the axe to hang by her side, ensuring her arm regained its familiarity with the weapon’s weight.
“Well, he bit me, so yes.” Erani pulled back her sleeve to show teeth marks in her forearm. “He wasn’t gentle either.”
“Remove the sack,” Kira said, shaking her head.
Erani shrugged and pulled the black sack from the seated dwarf’s head to reveal a knotted length of rope shoved into his mouth and tied tightly around the back of his head. Rikber Lars’s eyes grew wide as soon as he saw Kira, and he tugged against his bonds. The dwarf’s skin was time-touched, his beard thick and grey with no rings, his head bald as polished stone.
“Remove the rope, Erani.”
“Let him bite you,” she said as she pulled a knife from her belt and slid it between the rope and the back of Rikber’s head. “See how you feel then.”
She slit the rope, and the dwarf gasped for air, lurching in the chair.
Kira leaned forwards and pressed her left hand into the tabletop, the axe in her right clinking against the stone. “Rikber Lars, is it?”
The dwarf heaved in a breath. “Queen Kira…” He stared at her for a few moments, as though taking in a ghost. “I had heard tale that you were chained in Volkur’s dungeons – or dead.”
“As you can see, I am neither. Does that make you happy or sad?”
“Makes me curious.” If Rikber held any fear at being captured, he did not show it.
“I’ve had you brought here because I’ve been told you are a scholar of Hafaesir.”
“One of many, Your Majesty. If I may be so bold, why me in particular?”
Kira smiled. “What is your loyalty to King Hoffnar?”
“He is my king, Your Majesty.”
Kira raised an eyebrow, and Rikber returned her smile.
“I do not know him, and from what I do know, I care little. Though I also do not know you. But I am a quick learner.” He leaned his head back to look at the bonds that held his hands, then stared up at Erani and Alrick. “Did you attack me in my home and place a sack over my head because you thought I had some kind of blind loyalty to a king I’ve never met who suddenly proclaims himself ruler of all Lodhar?” In the brief silence that followed, Rikber shook his head and sighed. “Youth is wasted on the young.”
“You bit me,” Erani snapped.
“And I’ll bite you again if you put your hands on me without warning. My only loyalty is to Hafaesir and to knowledge. Now, if you can please untie my hands, my fingers have been tingling for quite some time now.” When Erani didn’t move, Rikber looked to Kira. “I have seen over a hundred cycles. My right hip is as fragile as the skin on this one’s hand,” he said, nodding at Kira’s sister. “And the only time I’m holding anything sharp is when I’m trying to open a letter. Even if I wanted your blood, I’d have trouble enough just climbing over this table.”
Rikber leaned forwards and stretched his arms out.
Kira nodded to Erani, and her sister sighed before cutting the dwarf’s bonds.
“Better?” Kira asked.
“Much.” Rikber rubbed the red friction marks on his wrists. “Hoffnar wishes to lead us to the outer world, to have us claim lands beneath the sun’s light.” He let out a long, disgruntled sigh. “We are dwarves. Our ancestors were carved from the mountains, forged by Hafaesir. This is our home. Why would we leave it? To become like the other races? I think not. There is beauty and mystery enough beneath the rock of Lodhar. Hoffnar’s preachings do not stir me. Now, what need have you for a scholar of Hafaesir?”
Kira glanced at Vikmar, who nodded and commanded two of the Queensguard to close and lock the main door while he drew the hastily erected curtains across the old, open window.
“Well,” Rikber said, pressing his open palms against the table, “now I’m certainly intrigued.”
“What would you say if I told you we had found the lost city of Vindakur?”
“I would say you were lying through your teeth.”
“And what if we had excavated a mostly intact Portal Heart within the city limits?”
“I would say that Efialtír has touched your mind. And I would ask when we are leaving.”
“That simple?”
Rikber let out a long sigh. He seemed to sigh a lot, though she supposed the older she got the more she sighed as well. “I already told you, I owe no loyalty to Hoffnar, nor anyone who sits on a throne and sends dwarves to carve each other apart. I have dedicated my entire life to the study and understanding of our people’s history. If I can be the first dwarf to lay eyes on the lost city of Vindakur and a Portal Heart in over three hundred years, then I am yours, my queen.”
“Hmm.” Kira walked around the table until she stood beside the old scholar, leaning on the table’s edge. “Tell me about the Portal Hearts.”
“What do you want to know?”
“How many there are, where they go, can you use them?”
Rikber laughed. “Decades of my life, summarised in a few breaths.”
“I don’t want decades of your life. Simple answers. The stories say there are five portals, yes?”
Rikber nodded. “From my studies, there is one located in Vindakur and one in Drifaien at Mount Helmund – or Frostbone Hill as it was once called.” He leaned forwards and tapped the map. “One buried deep in the Kolmir Mountains, lost with our brethren there. One in the dead city of Ulukar in Wolfpine Ridge and one in the Sea of Stone. Though the last time that was seen was millennia ago.”
“And if we put you in front of one, do you think you could activate it? Take us where we need to go?”
Rikber gave a half-shrug. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. I’ve never actually seen one with my own eyes, only drawings and paintings that have seen more centuries than my mother has, and that dwarf simply won’t die.”
“Well then, what use are you?” Alrick’s son, Lomak, asked, scratching at a cut on his face.
“More use than you, I’d wager.” He frowned at the young dwarf, turning back to Kira. “I believe I can activate one, and that I have a reasonable chance of being able to utilise it with a degree of accuracy.”
Kira stared down at the old dwarf for a moment, looking into his eyes. “I need you to be sure.”
“I am what I am, my queen. I could not?—”
“Thousands of lives depend on you telling me you are sure you can control a Portal Heart. This is no time for modesty. Are you the foremost living scholar of Hafaesir or not?”
Rikber’s stare grew sombre. “If you take me to the lost city of Vindakur and put me before a true Portal Heart, I will not fail you.”
“Good.” Kira gestured to Ahktar, who stood watching by the door. “Have Rikber brought to where he can bathe and find a warm meal. And send for Turim Arlan. Tell him we will need every Wind Runner we have.”
Ahktar nodded and gestured for Rikber to follow him.
Kira grasped Ahktar’s arm and whispered in his ear. “Don’t let him out of your sight. Understood?”
“My queen.”
When Ahktar and Rikber left, Kira looked back to her sister and the others. “You did well finding him. We will need the others here as quickly as their legs can carry them. No matter how large the mountain, six thousand souls moving through the tunnels will not go unnoticed. We will need to arrange attacks to scatter Hoffnar’s forces. How secure is the lost city?”
“We have no more than a hundred axes stationed there at this moment, but, sister…” Erani’s voice took on a serious tone. “There is more.”
“There is always more,” Kira whispered to herself. “Speak.”
“Our spies in Volkur bring news. We know why Hoffnar has been building the tunnels.”
“Well,” Kira said, impatient. “Out with it.”
“He plans to assault Berona.” Alrick stepped closer to the table, where the maps lay. “And Antiquar, and maybe more, by the sound of it. His tunnels are almost complete.”
“And when is this assault to go ahead?”
“A matter of days,” Alrick replied.
“Good.”
“Good?” Erani narrowed her eyes at Kira. “I don’t like the Lorians any more than I do the kerathlin, but Hoffnar is radicalising these dwarves. They don’t want victory. They want blood, they want slaughter. There are thousands of innocents in those cities… hundreds of thousands.”
“My concern is for my people and the Belduarans with whom we have broken bread for millennia, not the Lorians. Such is the weight of a crown.” Kira folded her arms and looked at the maps. “This gives us time. While he is arranging his assaults, perhaps he will be less vigilant of what is closer to him.”
“That is all well and good, sister. But it is the forces of Durakdur he will send first. Our people who will take the brunt of the Lorian mages. Why do we wait? Why not attack now? There are many who stand beside you, ready to rally to your banner.”
“Because first we must see the Belduarans safe from our halls. They have suffered too much already.”
“And why is that our duty? We gave them sanctuary. We protected them. I was not here, but it was their boy-king who plotted with Pulroan, was it not?” Erani looked around the chamber at Alrick and the others. “Why do we continue to risk ourselves for their benefit?”
“Because that is who we are.” Kira slammed her fist on the table. “The Belduarans have stood by us since long before you and I drew breath. I will not be the one to break that bond. Oleg has promised us half his fighting number to see Hoffnar dead and our home returned. All he has asked is that we ensure the Belduaran people escape this mountain and the torrent of horrors they have endured. They are our allies, and we will stand by them.”
The door creaked open, and Turim Arlan, Guildmaster of the Wind Runners, strode in with those padded navigator glasses strapped to his head and two of Kira’s Queensguard at his side.
“The Wind Runners Guild is ready when you are, my queen.”
Kira nodded. “Then let us begin.”
Hours later, Kira found herself standing in a place she never believed she would stand. A place part of her had only thought legend.
The lost city of Vindakur sprawled before her, golden domes and rooves glinting in the yellow light of the strange Heraya’s Ward that covered the rock ceiling and spread down the sweeping pillars. If she didn’t look too closely, it was as though the city stood still in time, just as awe-inspiring and wondrous as it had been in her mind when she’d heard the stories as a child. When she looked closer, however, she could see marks in the stone, the plants growing through the cracks, the bodies of the kerathlin littered about.
This place had once been the glittering gem of the Lodhar Freehold. And those creatures had slaughtered every soul within. It still made little sense to her. The kerathlin were vicious when provoked, an unrelenting wave of claw and mandible. And whenever mining parties strayed too close to the nests – which happened far too often for her liking – the results were savage. But they’d never attacked a city before. It had always been thought that the mass of sound and bodies kept them away. The kerathlin were ferociously defensive but not aggressive. And then, after everything, the creatures had simply abandoned their nest? Pieces of this puzzle were missing, of that she was sure.
Slowly, Kira pulled her attention from the golden rooves and sweeping walkways to the thousands of souls that filled the streets on the opposite side of the bridge upon which she stood. Blocks of red and purple marked her Queensguard and the Belduaran forces marching through the thick of bodies.
Just over half of the Belduaran refugees had made the journey so far, the Wind Runners in constant operation to bring them through. With care and patience, and more than a little luck, they could see the Belduarans through the portals before Hoffnar had any idea.
“Just a little longer,” Kira whispered as she watched the sea of people. “Just a little longer.”
Five shapes emerged from the crowd and crossed the bridge. Vikmar and four of her Queensguard stopped and bowed as they reached her. “The defensive lines are set, my queen, and we’ve blockaded the external Wind Tunnels. Twenty-nine watchposts have been placed between here and the other cities, virtuk riders at each. If Hoffnar’s forces move, we will know about it.”
“Good. Come.”
Kira turned towards the ruined dome that had once enclosed the Portal Heart. The structure was enormous and dominated the island upon which they stood. Erani had told her they’d pulled several bodies from the rubble during the excavation, dwarven and Belduaran. This was how the Draleid had escaped the tunnels. Kira had made sure Rikber Lars would remain ignorant of the fact that he would not be the first person to activate a Portal Heart in centuries. That piece of information would help absolutely nobody.
The circular tunnel that led into the centre of the island was the only piece of the structure that had remained fully intact. Kira removed her gauntlet and brushed her fingers against the smooth rock as she stepped into the tunnel and walked its length. This place was more than just a structure. It was a holy thing, a gift from Hafaesir to her people – a gift she had thought lost.
When she reached the end of the tunnel, she just stopped and stared. Even with most of the roof gone and stacks of rock piled along the chamber’s edges, the Portal Heart was still a sight to behold. Massive stone rings, some twenty feet across, etched with delicate carvings and marked with glyphs at the top. One had been crushed by the falling rocks, but three were still intact.
Rikber Lars and a score of other dwarves stood about a pedestal at the chamber’s centre, as they had done for some time, books and sheets of parchment all about them.
“How goes the progress?” Kira asked Erani as her sister approached.
“As quickly as it can!” Rikber called out.
Erani just shrugged, and Kira gestured for her to follow.
“I understand it is a delicate process, Rikber,” she said, moving to stand by Rikber’s side. “But there are only four glyphs. Surely we could move a little faster.”
Rikber shook his head, staring down at the markings on the topmost page of a thick sheaf of parchment in his hand. The dwarf stopped, gave a sharp ‘ tssk’ , and turned to Kira. “There may only be four glyph markings, but each glyph is composed of several subsets with instructions contained within. These are glyphs in a language long lost, a language gifted to our ancestors by the gods themselves, one that is singular in its ability to record large quantities of information in a small space. I am the only living scholar who has even a semblance of an idea what they mean. If you want me to activate the rings, I can do so right now.”
Rikber pressed his palm down onto one of the four glowing crystals. The ground beneath their feet shook, and the glyph marking atop the ring to Kira’s left ignited with a golden light. A heartbeat passed and a whoosh swept through the chamber as molten gold poured from within the ring, forming into a floating pool.
“There,” he said, gesturing towards the ring. “Step through. Go. I have no idea which Portal Heart I’m sending you to, but go. I’m sure it will only take hours or days to stumble your way through the tunnels on the other side and, with luck, you can determine where in the gods you actually are – as long as you don’t starve or get murdered by something. And if you’re in the wrong place, we can try again. Do we have days? Weeks? Not to mention Portal Hearts can feel intent and can alter their functions accordingly… at least, that’s what the old writings say. But yes, go, step through, do what you want. What use am I anyway?”
“I get your point, Rikber.”
“Do you? Good. Now can you stop looming over me and let me do my work?”
A part of Kira wanted to hack the old dwarf’s head off and take her chances with a one-in-three guess. But she decided against it.
Kira gestured to her sister, and the pair marched back through the tunnel and out onto the island before crossing the last remaining bridge of what had once been four.
A block of Queensguard formed around her as she approached the boundary that separated the Belduarans from the island, marching in step, their crimson cloaks drifting behind them.
Oleg Marylin and Lumeera Arian stood in front of the line of wooden stakes that had been set across the main thoroughfare, a small gap left at the centre.
“Your Majesty,” Oleg said with a bow, inclining his head to Erani as well. “Three thousand two hundred and fifty-one already evacuated to Vindakur and ready to step through the Portal Heart. Two thousand nine hundred and forty-three left at the outpost and on Wind Runners.” The man gestured towards the Wind Tunnel docks about a hundred feet up the rock face behind her, where a line of refugees snaked down a long, narrow path towards the city. “Everything is running smoothly.”
“Glad to hear it, Oleg. You will see the sun before long.” She gave the man a soft smile.
“I believe I have grown rather fond of the Heraya’s Ward.”
Calls and shouts broke out in the crowd ahead, growing ever closer. The sea of people parted, and an armoured virtuk galloped through empty space, blood splattering its head and neck, a strip of flesh dangling from its beak. The creature ground to a halt before the line of wooden stakes, screeching as it did, its rider dropping to the ground like a stone.
Kira darted through the gap in the defensive line, Vikmar and her Queensguard following.
She dropped to the ground beside the dwarf. An arrow jutted from the gap in his armour below his breastplate, blood staining the mail and cloth.
“Get a Healer. Now!” Kira called to Vikmar, slipping an arm under the dwarf’s head and tilting it up to look into his eyes. “What happened?”
“My queen.” The dwarf grunted and coughed. “Hoffnar’s forces. They came upon us so quickly… There was nothing we could do. They had mages and elves.”
“Where were you stationed? How far?”
“There are thousands. They filled the tunnels. They knew we were here.”
“It’s all right, it’s all right. Breathe. A Healer is coming. I need you to focus. What were their numbers? How many mages did you see?”
“Too many, my queen.”
“You did well,” Kira said as Vikmar returned with two Alamant Healers. “Hafaesir watches over you.”
Kira stood as the two Healers took her place. “I thought we would have more time.”
“He was stationed at the last watchpost,” Vikmar said, staring down at the dwarf on the ground. “They will be upon us within the hour.”
“How did they get past so many without a single warning?” Erani asked.
“Mages.” Kira turned to Vikmar. “Send riders to scout the tunnels. We need to know what we’re facing.”
“At once, my queen.”
She looked to Erani and Lumeera Arian. “What are our fighting numbers here?”
“Seven thousand,” Lumeera answered. “Three thousand Belduarans, four thousand dwarves. Though many of our number are not warriors, just strong enough to hold steel in their hands.”
“The rest of our forces are on the raids to draw Hoffnar’s attention,” Erani said.
“Gods dammit,” Kira whispered. “Much good that did us.” She closed her eyes for a moment, shaking her head. “We cannot let them have the Portal Heart. That is not an option.”
“The Belduaran Highguard will take the main entrance,” Lumeera said without room for argument. “Erani, if you can spare a few hundred, we can pile the rubble higher along the outside of the entrance and create a funnel. I’ll set archers on the rooves. A hundred men there will be worth a thousand.”
Kira held up a hand. “If they’ve brought elven Battlemages…” She sighed. “They’ll cut through you like wheat.”
“If you have a better plan, Your Majesty, I am all ears. But if you don’t, my warriors and I will do what we must. There are three thousand Belduaran citizens here and more on the way – many injured, sick, old, or young. My sole purpose that remains in this life is protecting them. If time can be paid for in blood, we will do so. Just tell that scholar of yours the price we pay for every moment he takes. We don’t have enough time to get them all safe from here. So we must stand.”
Lumeera turned and set off for the main entrance, Belduaran warriors gathering around her. The crowd murmured and shifted, many still staring at the dwarf on the ground as the two Healers pulled the arrow from his gut.
Erani started to follow her, but Kira shook her head. “No. Ahktar, Kalik. The pair of you take four hundred and help Lord Captain Arian with that wall. Build it high and mighty.” Kira turned to Oleg. “Move the refugees to the other side of the island. Keep them from the fighting and find a way to build a bridge on the other side.”
The man nodded and set off with that strange waddling run he had.
When Kira looked at her sister, Erani knew what she intended immediately. “We don’t need it.”
“How long will we last against elven mages with just axes and steel, Erani? If it were Hoffnar alone, I’d say one of ours was worth ten of his. But the Spark… Hafaesir wove the soul of the bersekeer into our blood for a reason. He gave us the Rockblood for a reason .”
“The cost is too high. Less than half survive. You said it yourself. The Wind Tunnels are still open. We can start evacuating now. Send as many as we can back to the outposts and take our chances with the Portal Heart. Live to fight another day.”
“Look about you, sister.” Kira gestured at the crowd of Belduarans and around at the city in which they stood. “We stand in Vindakur, the lost city of old. We seek to travel through a Portal Heart – a godgift. Our home is taken from us. We hide in caves and tunnels. Hoffnar leads our people to war and slaughter. I will not give him this place. I will not.”
“It is rocks and ruin, sister. We can pick our battlefield more cleverly when we are not blindsided by elven mages. A good hunter takes their time. They make a plan with care. Let him have this place. We will find another way to see the Belduarans to safety. They will simply have to wait a little longer.”
“Rocks and ruin?” Kira gave a laugh that was both sorrow and anger. “This is our history. It is our people . Hafaesir gave us two gifts – the Portal Hearts and the Rockblood. I will allow Hoffnar neither.” She grasped Erani’s pauldrons and looked into her eyes. “You are my blood, and I trust you with my soul. Tell me to grab my axe and stand right here. Tell me that you want us to fight and die side by side, here. Tell me this is the end and that you welcome it. Tell me all that, sister, and I will return to the stone with a bloody smile on my lips. My axe will be like Hafaesir’s own, and we will burn ourselves a blazing glory in the fires of battle, side by side.” Kira dropped her voice low. “Tell me that is what you want, and I will do it. But I will not run.”
“Kira—”
“I will not run!” The rage that had been bubbling in Kira ever since Hoffnar had butchered Mirlak and her guards came screaming to the fore. “I watched his axe carve through Elenya’s face. I stared into Mirlak’s cold eyes when that piece of kerathlin shit threw my friend’s severed head onto my table. He carved the hair and the rings from my head.” Kira pulled at the short, ringless hair that grew from her head in clumps, breath shivering through her as her shoulders shook. She slammed her armour-clad fist to her breastplate. “I am a warrior of Hafaesir. I am the queen of Durakdur. And I will not give him any more! Today – here – we will make the first cut. Hoffnar thinks he has trapped us in this place. No doubt he has known of your discovery for some time and used it as bait. Draw us here, trap us, slaughter us. But it will be them trapped in here with us. We will show them Hafaesir’s wrath. We will show that rotten coward the true strength of the dwarves of Durakdur.”
Kira turned to Vikmar and the three score of Queensguard that stood about her. “What say you?”
Vikmar slipped his battleaxe from the loop on his back and slammed the butt into the stone, the other guards doing the same. “We are with you, my queen.”
“And what of you, Uncle?” Kira looked to Alrick, his sons Lomak and Kandzal beside him.
“The bersekeer blood runs thick in our veins,” Alrick said. “The dwarves of Durakdur are warriors from our skin to our bones. The only certainty is that blood will wet my axe. Let them come. We will be waiting. And if I can return to the stone with the blood of the rock in my veins, then even better.”
Erani nodded slowly, letting out a sigh through her nostrils. “We all die eventually, I suppose. I would rather do it with an axe in my hand and a tale to tell when I return to the rock.”
“Will you drink with me?” Kira asked, pulling her sister closer. “Will you drink the blood of the mountain? Will you set your soul free?”
Again, Erani drew a long breath. “I will.” She swallowed. “At least if the Rockblood deems me unworthy, this place will be where I rest.”
“That will not happen.” Kira squeezed her sister’s shoulder, holding her grip for a few moments. “Vikmar, spread the word. For the first time in almost a millennium, the children of Hafaesir will wield his hammer. All those who have the bersekeer blood in their veins and are willing to drink the blood of the mountain are to assemble here. Go now. We do not have time to linger.”