ã€ŠThe Sagas of Mortaholmeã€‹


 Prologue

    An unnatural silence cloaked the landscape. The winds blew a stench of decay through the rotting boughs of the Black Forest which edged the wild foothills of the southern border. Birdsong had long left those gnarled branches, as had the scurry of padded feet. Dark mud oozed through the decaying roots that fed the lice and roaches, who now inhabited the recesses and crags, once housing a thriving community of woodland creatures. The flutter of leathery wings spiralled overhead from the deep forest caves which pitted the countryside''s sombre interior. As day turned to dusk, the shadows of the rotting forest flew from branch to branch, chasing the flocks of bats that wheeled above. Shadows curved and distorted in the dying light, projecting imagined beasts which crawled and clawed around the deathly trunks of blackened wood.

    Two pale, bare feet stalked the gnarled roots and followed a worn, stone-pocked path. The ground began to steepen, and the trees thinned. The path became more defined, and the light of the moon shone through the sparse branches. Falling rays of moonlight defined the creature who crept its way through the dark scenery. An iron crown lining its head resembled the jagged fangs of an ancient beast long-lost. Long raven hair fell about its shoulders, covering his features, although two red lights twinkled beneath its shadowed brow, and showed the demon that resided in this man''s skin. His black cloak fell about him, immersing his figure in yet more shadow.

    Finally, the path stopped at a set of broken gates. The gates themselves had rusted into nothingness long ago, but the stone gateway still held some of its former standing, boasting two giant pillars roughly cut from huge slabs of rock. Above them, the ruined remains of two wolves still stood, though erosion and war had re-carved them into demonic representations of their previous selves. What remained of this archway still hung from each pillar; the rest was scattered at the gateway''s base, with the central keystone speared into the centre of the path as if in statement. The cloaked figure sidestepped the half-buried slab and continued on, up into the crumbled ruins of the once majestic castle.

    He picked his way through the flagged courtyard; more rubble was scattered in its interior, broken and empty. Time and weather had eroded the castle into the landscape, and although many of its features still resembled the structure that once stood there, the wars and ever-changing borders had moulded the stone walls into boulders and the high keep into a jagged landmark.

    The figure now climbed the cracked, overgrown stone steps that led into the ancient keep. He stalked his way across the once great hall, and entered the roofless throne room. All the interior of the castle had been sacked long ago in the ages of the old kingdoms, but the stone throne still stood in defiance of time and the elements. He walked onto a stone balcony that looked out over the cliff where this castle stood. An autumn night''s breeze pushed back the raven hair to reveal a face of ivory white. His crimson eyes gleamed beneath his noble brow; his nose, straight and long, was bred to look down upon lesser beings, and his lips, stained red with the blood of others, peeled back ever so slightly to show the tips of his prominent canines.

    On this side of the border, the forest had become tame and healthy. Great green oaks dominated the forest and towered over the maples and beside the ash. The hoot and chatter of nocturnal creatures could be heard from the forest''s depths, and a small town was snuggled nicely into the bend of the forest''s river. The outlying homesteads had cleared some of the forest in order to graze their livestock, and now the thatched stone and log houses puffed smoke from their stone chimneys, and torches lined the winding cobbled streets of the town.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    It had grown since the crowned man had last laid his eyes upon it. He unclasped his cloak, revealing robes of black and crimson beneath. He allowed the cloak to fall, and slowly raised his right arm in the direction of the town before snapping up his wrist. He pointed his palm towards the town''s graveyard and began chanting in a deep, unearthly voice.

    The soil writhed and bubbled around the graves, and the putrid smell of rotting death poured from the earth. A fog swirled around the cemetery, and ominous shadows flitted through the darkness, extinguishing the town''s torches. Rotting hands thrust out from their graves and pulled their decayed corpses after them, then blood curdling howls called out from the forest as mutated, wolven beasts launched out from the undergrowth and branches, tufts of brown fur protruding from strange angles. Their pointed ears swivelled slightly, listening to their prey, and their elongated faces accommodated long jaws which were overcrowded with large jagged teeth. Their noses crinkled around their jaws, pulling their lips back into terrifying snarls. These were the wargs, as vicious as the night was dark.

    Then the screams began. The smashing of window panes and the crunching of splintered doors echoed throughout the night; howls and shouts bounced from wall to wall. The town guard, led by the mayor, tried to resist in earnest as they cut back the undead with fire and axes, but, as the wargs descended, they fell into screams as well.

    Blood poured from every door and window, filling the streets with a river of red, pooling unnaturally at the central square of the town. The undead began to pile the townsfolk there, making a vast mound of corpses, and then, once their work was complete, the demon came.

    From out of the shadows he stalked, allowing the blood to lap at his naked heels. As he passed down the main street, the sounds of growling and crunching could be heard from within the occasional house as packs of wargs feasted upon the leftover townsfolk. The crowned man reached the town''s centre square and waited. Shadows pooled at the edges, and mist swirled around them to form three hooded figures that walked the blood-drenched cobbles with anxious steps, and gathered around their leader.

    The crowned man stirred, not in acknowledgment of the other three, but instead kneeling, blood rippling under his knee. He dipped his middle and index finger into the crimson stream, and began to chant again. The ripples around his knee and fingers grew; the blood around him became darker in shade until it dimmed to black. This black blood spanned out and crept across the streets to climb the mound of corpses. The mist dispersed, and the shadows were thrown back by an eerie green light that began to permeate from the dead townsfolk. Whimpers and growls echoed through the night as houses were lit by the glowing dead. Then, all of a sudden, the butchered townsfolk began to twitch, the mound beginning to writhe as the blood flowed into it.

    The townsfolk pushed at each other with frigid, shaky movements. A low gurgle came from their throats, and you could almost hear the black blood writhing within them. As the last drops were absorbed by the mound, their movements became more fluid and, climbing off from one another, they began to line up into formation before the crowned man. The wargs yelped and whined as their meals crawled away.

    The demon straightened and faced the other three figures. The middle of the three pulled back its hood and drew closer to the crowned man. White hair flowed down her back and framed an ivory white face. A single scarlet scar ran down the right side of her features, starting at her brow and ending at her chin, framing the permanent scowl that plagued her terrifying person. She measured her words and collected her emotions carefully before she spoke.

    "Has it begun, my Lord Eldrikch?"

    The demon¡¯s eyes twinkled in the moonlight as he studied his disciple, before turning to look at his legion of undead who still glowed green in the night. A fire had broken out and framed his army in destruction. The wargs littered the various rooftops around the square, either still munching upon various body parts, or settled down to wait for their master.

    In a deep and ancient voice, he replied. "Yes Serlaena, it has begun."

 Chapter 1:

    Marius looked to his mother with a frown as a strange voice echoed out over the town; his frown deepening as he heard howls bounce through the trees outside. He heard his father curse downstairs, then watched in terror as monstrous beasts crashed through the upstairs windows, and tore his mother and sister apart.

    He fell back in horror as one ripped into his sister''s rib cage and ate at her spilling innards, causing her screams to fall short. He stumbled back, away from the terror. Fleeing from the room, he tripped and fell down the stairs, to find his father wielding an axe in one hand and brandishing a flaming log in the other; fighting back rotting, walking dead men that poured in through the front door. Marius lay at the foot of the stairs, half-concussed, and watched as his father became overwhelmed by the flood of undead, falling back as rusted knives and swords were plunged into his chest over and over. He was still alive as the undead dragged him, gurgling, from the house.

    The flaming log, which now smouldered, and the axe, which was now blunted, lay discarded upon the floor. The crunching, growling, and snapping from upstairs could be heard amongst the screams of terror and howls from outside as Marius pulled himself to his knees and vomited, overcome by the sudden destruction of his home.

    He wiped the bile from his face, and raised himself unsteadily to his feet. Marius swayed over to where his father''s discarded weapons lay and picked them up. Fear gripped him as he felt the axe in his hand, slick with the blood of his father, and then he looked to the smouldering log. The crunching, munching sounds of the beasts upstairs could be heard over the screams outside, and Marius felt sickness and nausea flood through him as he thought of them coming down to meet him. The fire still burned brightly in the hearth, tended by his father¡¯s last moments. He looked at the log in his hand once more, and feeling tears drip down from his face, he plunged its end into the hearth. Flames lit the wood; sensing the warmth grow, he pulled the log from the fire. Then, as he sobbed uncontrollably, Marius set his home alight, burning all he could.

    He watched for a moment as the flames raged, and then, finding the heat too hot, Marius threw the log at the base of the stairs, and ran out through the shattered front door.

    He heard the howls of agony from his mother and sister¡¯s killers, and felt a slight grim satisfaction at their demise, yet drowned by his sorrow. As he stood in the street with the blood of his neighbours lapping around his ankles, Marius felt all emotion wash away. He heard nothing but the sound of his own heart and saw nothing but red. Blood, ash, and soot bathed his rugged, northern appearance; his dark hair was clotted with bile and he could taste its sting upon his tongue. Crimson splashed up across his face and body like war paint, taken from the lifeblood spilled by his father across the floor.

    Then, after the silent disconnection of his misery, the world came back. The screams and howls could still be heard, although they had moved on from where he stood shaking. Only silence followed them, but he wondered how he could still hear them as clearly as if they were no more than a step away.

    He moved down the street, keeping close to the shadows with his father¡¯s axe raised. He felt the blood splash about his legs and fought to keep himself from breaking down again. A sudden rage began to burn deeply within him, but it was tempered by the disgust, horror, and suddenness of his situation. He looked back at his burning home for the last time before turning away at the end of his street.

    He could still hear the screams clearly, and now he ran towards them. He sprinted through the flowing red streets as a ghost. Shadows flitted past him and the undead broke through doors and windows in their mission of extermination. He slowed his pace and came to a halt to see the town''s guards and mayor fighting back a small horde of undead. In desperation, they held the animated corpses at bay with axes like his own, but Marius looked on as wargs fell from the roof upon the defenders, who in turn fell upon the cobbles with curdling screams.

    He fled, ashamed of his own cowardice ¨Cran into the darkest alley he could find and hid behind a stack of barrels, shivering from head to toe in fear. He emptied the remaining contents of his stomach, and knelt silently in a convulsive fever. Blood still lapped at his feet, leaking through his leather boots and squelching between his toes. A dismembered eye floated past, and Marius felt himself swoon with equal measures of disgust and disbelief. He watched the alley''s entrance in silent fright as the blood rippled out from an unknown source and dimmed to black.

    The blood began to retract as an ominous green glow lit up the dark streets, and he edged out from his hiding spot, still clutching his father''s axe. He peeked out from the alley''s entrance; it opened out onto the town''s central square, and as Marius watched, a strange man knelt, chanting just off-centre from a huge mound of corpses. Rusted weapons stuck out at strange angles, and the corpses themselves seemed to glow green. The black blood that drowned the cobblestones of the town flowed into this glowing green mound of the dead, and then, all of a sudden, the corpses began to move.

    Marius stared in horror as the mound of dead townsfolk climbed off each other and formed files and ranks in front of the strange man, whilst more of the undead piled out from various houses and streets to form up with the others. Marius fought to keep control as he watched the people he had known all his life line up before this demon. Boys he had fought and played with stood green-eyed, holding vacant expressions. Some had lost arms or hands whilst others still had rusty swords, knives or axes sticking out at odd angles.

    Rage boiled within Marius then and he knew that this crowned demon must be the architect behind the death of his family and the sudden slaughter of his town. This evil stood up and faced three hooded figures that Marius had not noticed before, and the middle figure dropped its hood to reveal a ghostly woman. She had a fierce expression that froze Marius to his bones, with a single red scar that ran down the side of her face to finish off her terrifying visage. She looked at the man, and seemed anxious and scared. She said something that Marius couldn''t hear from his hiding spot, but he heard the demon''s response. It was a voice that echoed through the square, different from the chanting voice he had used before; this was a voice that sounded as if from ages past.

    The response sounded final, as a prophesy.

    Marius could take no more. He had seen his family butchered and had killed the monsters that had butchered them. He had seen the people he had grown up with killed and then turned into the very things that had killed them. He had waded through bile, blood, vomit, and any number of other substances, and now this strange demonic being had said that this was only the beginning.

    His tempered rage was now shattered, broken into a brittle edge. Marius decided at that point that enough was enough, and gripping his father''s axe with both hands, he charged. He thought that he cried out but didn''t hear it. All he heard was the pounding of his feet and heart, and all he knew was the flaming emotion that burned within him. His blood-drenched boots hammered against the cobblestones, with his father''s axe in his hands aimed at its target. The white woman, Serlaena, stared in amazement as Marius leaped, raising the axe high above his head, and with all his might brought it down upon the spiked crown.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    Marius hung there in mid-air, his eyes bulging as he gasped for breath. His father''s axe lay shattered into pieces upon the floor, and two black pupils glittered inches in front of his face, dancing in the green and orange lights which surrounded the destruction of the town. The crimson edges seemed to flicker and swirl around the darkness within, and in horror Marius stared into the two, glowing eyes of the demon he had tried to destroy.

    From the darkness, the demon laughed. The sound was charming, as if a spell in itself. The man released his grip upon Marius, but somehow still controlled him. Marius gulped down air, and then started as he realised that he was floating about a foot from the ground. The demon had reigned in his laughter, and stood looking up at Marius.

    He spoke in his ageless voice, "You are brave, boy; very brave to attempt a strike upon me, to face the personification of death and to charge instead of yielding."

    Marius floated in front of his death now and accepted it as the demon continued to speak.

    ¡°It¡¯s such a shame."

    The being of death flicked his wrist, and sent Marius tumbling through the courtyard until he smashed into a solid stone wall. He felt his bones crush against the stone and sharp rocks cut deeply into him. Plumes of blood spurted from his body, and Marius felt a cold searing pain creep from the wounds into the rest of his body. The blood flow slowed, and as Marius looked on from his crumpled state, he saw the crowned demon and his shadowy followers float away. He heard the unified crunch of an army''s footsteps and the padding of paws slink past, and knew at that moment that he had been left for dead.

    ...

    Olaf stood upon a ridge and looked down at the smouldering town. He pulled up the collar of his leather overcoat against the rain that pattered down upon the coals around him, which in turn hissed into black ash. The silver lion-head pauldron that was strapped onto his shoulder shone against the grey sky and reflected the devastation that his eyes saw.

    A brisk wind jostled the charred branches that surrounded him, and picked at his shoulder-length white hair and beard. His braided moustache drooped at either side of his mouth and was bound at his chin in a cross. Olaf¡¯s aged face bore the scars of many battles, and his hulking frame stood in defiance of the years he had lived. Mystic blue swirling runes ran the length and breadth of his body, giving his already massive, awe-inspiring figure a godlike dimension. As he stood there, two heads taller than any other man and three times broader, he surveyed his opponent''s work with critical, analysing eyes, searching for any sign of survivors.

    Olaf slowly circled around the smouldering remains of Stonehill, pausing at each homestead in desperate hope of survivors. He discovered none; only the massacred livestock remained, and very little was present of their rotting corpses. Olaf pushed on, losing hope with every step; the only signs of life consisted of the massive tracks of a great host that broke through the forest''s undergrowth. But they were the cause, and this black and smoking landscape was the effect.

    He finally reached the tattered outskirts of Stonehill. A mixture of paw prints and footprints littered the churned up, blood-drenched mud, and the further into the town Olaf stalked, the more chaotic the prints became.

    The rain ran off from the rooves and gutters and began to cleanse the town''s crimson streets. The blood-stained water welled in the drains and flooded the streets, cleaning the intestines, limbs, and various other body parts out of the cobblestones. Olaf stood knee-deep in the oncoming flood, surveying the town''s main street. His leather boots filled and saturated his feet in the freezing overflow of the town, and his overcoat''s tails flew out behind him in the wind and rain as he stood in a stoic stance against the elements.

    From his back, Olaf unsheathed a giant blade of amazing beauty. The golden hilt was little wider than that of the blade itself, and carved upon it were blue runes that shimmered and glowed, matching the ones that ran across his skin. The blade was longer than that of most men, and wider than a blacksmith''s arm; it too had blue runes carved along its length, and the metal seemed to shine silver.

    The blade flew from his shoulder, down through the storm, slicing raindrops as it came, and landed between his drowning feet. The blade embedded itself, tip first, into the cobbled streets, and parted the flood around him, temporarily sheltering Olaf from the wind and rain. He looked back in search of more suitable shelter, and with a grunt, wrenched his blade from the street and leapt sideways into a vacant doorway. He lent against the wall and prepared to wait out the storm.

    He slid down, and sat on the stone steps that led out onto the flooded street, leaning his sword against the door''s frame and peeling off his boots to allow the crimson water to cascade out. Half of a dismembered ear fell from the small torrent as he shook the remaining liquid from his right boot.

    Olaf looked to the diluted red of the streaming river that now flowed over the main street next to him. Smashed cupboards, broken tables, and various other splintered and scattered household objects floated past upon the red and white rapids that swirled viciously out from the town. Olaf kept vigilant throughout the oncoming storm, prepared for anything as the sky turned as black as coal, leaving the day to fly somewhere else. The rain continued to fall and the rapids became more perilous, forcing Olaf to relocate to higher ground as the flood rose. Now the higher floors of the abandoned houses served as his shelter.

    The storm still wore on and Olaf sat resolute, looking from his window out at the drowning town. The diluted red of the water had all but rinsed the last of the gore that littered the town, but also washed away the hope of any survivors. The only signs of the former residents floated downstream, and were cloaked in crimson and awash in offal. The dark clouds above seemed to lighten a little, and the rain thinned from its downpour into a falling mist.

    Olaf came away from his window and sheathed his sword. He looked down at his saturated boots and muttered under his breath. His blue tattoos glowed, and steam rose from the soaked footwear, satisfying Olaf as he pulled on his now dry and toasty warm boots. He made his way through the abandoned house until he came to the front door, which lay splintered upon the drenched floor from where he had kicked it down.

    The flood outside began to recede, and the clouds parted to show a red sky that blazed across the uppermost clouds, breaking through in beams onto the surrounding hills, painting them with a pinkish tinge. A rainbow soared over the hills, giving light to Olaf¡¯s heart after such a day of darkness and despair.

    With a little hope renewed, Olaf started out once more, determined to find something before darkness fell. He allowed himself a small smile as he began searching through the abandoned houses and checking every alley as he stalked through the town. At long last, as the day''s last hour began to pass, after he had checked every building and outhouse leading into the centre of town, Olaf cautiously crept into the central town square. Its stone buildings and dark alleyways looked ominous, and just by glancing at it Olaf felt all hope seep from his heart. He was just about to move on when something caught his eye.

    A muddled heap of driftwood and other material collected against the corner of one of the alleyways leading out from the central square. Amongst it, blood seeped out from an unknown source.

    Olaf drew his sword, and as he crept closer, he made out an arm protruding from the heap at a strange angle. And then a shoulder, followed by a torso. As Olaf came to within a few yards of where this body lay, he saw its chest rise and fall. He sheathed his blade, and immediately began pulling the driftwood away from the figure in a desperate hope of rescue.

 Chapter 2:

    Alun sat outside a small alehouse in the capital city of Alturine and read the newsprint, the front page of which had plastered upon it the image of the burnt-out husk of the city''s university. He hid under a broad-brimmed hat and a deep, grey cloak which matched his tunic and trousers. Folding the paper and picking up his bag, Alun finished his beer, dropped some spare change into his glass, and strolled casually down the cluttered street in the general direction of the locomotive station. Pulling out his ticket from a pocket inside his cloak, Alun checked the platform number and carriage he was heading for.

    Steam hung upon the station as an eerie first morning fog caused the constant flow of passengers to seem as shadowy apparitions, each crossing the cobbled platforms, floating to their respective destinations. The steady flow streamed around one another in what looked to be a dance of swirling mist that curled and snarled, threatening to swallow a man whole. Alun stepped out from this swirling mist, desperately looking for his train. He snaked between the multitude of passengers, aiming for his intended platform. He pulled out a silver wind-up pocket watch from a chain attached to his belt, and felt dismay bubble up inside him as the clock crept closer to ten.

    Alun began to push through the crowd frantically as he tried to reach platform seven, and broke into a run as his train''s whistle sounded out. His frantic dismay attracted the attention of a pair of obese guards, who sat lounging outside the station''s tavern observing the crowd with the smug expressions of overweight pigs in mud. Alun was unaware of this as he struggled to his platform, and called out to the platform''s porter who, just in time, signalled the driver to hold the train. Panting, Alun lent on his knees whilst pulling out his ticket. Once the ticket was inspected, the porter picked up Alun''s bag and walked down the platform to Alun''s cabin, beckoning him to follow.

    Alun dropped into the wooden seat of the cabin and mopped the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief. The whistle sounded once more and the train pulsed into motion. Alun heard the chug of the pistons up ahead, and the reciprocating movement of the locomotive snapped into action. The train pulled out from its platform and slipped away from the industrial suburbs into the foothills of the surrounding mountains. The train rocked like a boat, and the inclement weather outside hammered rain against Alun''s cabin windowpane, distorting the colours outside into a montage of blurred rainbows.

    He watched as the green foothills of the Dragon Fang Mountains became more jagged, and the greens turned into greys as the grass gave way to rock. The carriages tilted with the wind as the storm smashed into their sides, and the countryside became more ragged as the train ploughed on into the mountains. A tunnel loomed up from the shadows, plunging the train into darkness. Alun watched as the porter walked up the train''s corridor, lighting kerosene lamps to give light to the passengers. He passed Alun''s cabin and lit the nearest lamp, providing a pool of orange light that enveloped both Alun''s cabin and the cabin opposite.

    Alun looked across at this cabin and observed a man sitting strangely on his own bench seat. This man seemed to be meditating, but would occasionally twitch or cower from some strange spasm or unseen spectre that tormented him. His dark hair was flecked with white, and he bore the uniform of the church.

    The train burst into the open once more and revealed the rolling foothills of the once prosperous kingdom of Branir. Alun let out a sigh of relief as the beautiful greens of his home country shone out in the impending storm. Lightning bolted out over the hills, and thunder caused the glass to shake in their window frames. Wind whipped against the train once more, causing an alarming rocking motion. Again, the porter walked down the corridor, but this time he extinguished the flames in the event of greater turbulence, and again, Alun looked across at his unusual neighbour, who sat transfixed upon the monstrous storm which bellowed outside.

    The hills gave way to farmland, and Alun watched the summer colours make up a vast patchwork quilt across the countryside. The occasional stone out-house or homestead could be seen smoking by the chimney, and lights flickered at their windows as the storm began to die down and the clouds started to part, showing a red sky that blazed across the uppermost clouds and broke through in beams onto the surrounding hills, painting them with a pinkish hue. Day turned from the black, rolling clouds into a crimson setting sun as the locomotive pushed closer to the northern border of the Holy Empire of Alturine. The stone homesteads became more frequent, and the occasional hamlet flitted past the windows. In the distance, vast keeps watched over the farmlands in anticipation of the northern raiders, but despite the old tales, they had not seen action in centuries.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Finally, the sun set beyond the hilly horizon.

    ...

    Marius lifted a single eyelid, and looked up at a high-vaulted stone roof that held intricate arches and gargoyles that snarled down at him. Pain seared through his body, and memories flooded back as snapping jaws dived at his throat and, struggling with the exertion, he tried to pull himself from his terror-filled bed.

    Suddenly, a giant with white hair and beard loomed over him; blue tattoos swirled across his features and played off the various scars that broke the wrinkles of his ancient face. His massive shoulders were cloaked in an equally massive leather coat. The giant gently pushed Marius back into bed and offered him a cup of steaming liquid.

    "Here, boy, drink this."

    Holding Marius''s head, the giant poured the steaming liquid down his throat. Marius felt the pain ebb away, and the memories became hazy. He propped himself up on his elbows and groaned from the anticipation of more pain, but to his surprise, his ribs and back only ached with the soreness of misuse, and not the agonising sting of his broken, crippled body. He licked his lips nervously and glanced around the room, imagining shadowy demons in every corner. And then, his eyes rested on the giant in front of him, who stood smiling with his broad arms folded across his massive chest.

    "It seems you¡¯re alive, then!"

    The giant had a thick, booming voice that reverberated throughout the room. His whole manner seemed cheerful and almost jolly, but the runic tattoos that were etched upon his mountain of muscles were enough to tell Marius otherwise. He looked up at his saviour and cleared his throat; the last sound he had uttered had been the ripping scream he had cried as he flew at the crowned demon, and now his voice felt raw and blistered.

    His words came out in stuttering pauses: "Who...who are you, and where a-a-am I?"

    The giant looked out from under two white bushy eyebrows with flawless blue eyes that pierced through even the blackest black.

    The resonating voice rung out once again as he answered, "I am known as Olaf, and as to where you are... you are in my house."

    Marius thought about the answers he had been given for a moment, and then looked up at Olaf.

    "How a-am I alive? And those runes, they look as if they c-c-came from the old kingdoms."

    Olaf smiled another one of his smiles and sat down in a chair by the bed. Out of the folds of his giant coat he produced a wooden pipe, the likes of which old men smoked outside taverns. He bent over it, muttering to himself, and as he did so, lit the end and sucked out the foul-smelling smoke; it snaked out from his nose and swirled up into the ceiling.

    "Boy," he said, and this time his voice had dimmed a little and his booming voice carried a lyrical rhythm to it. "Let me tell you a few things about the lands of old." He puffed once more on his pipe, and his tattoos glowed subtly as the smoke changed colours and formed shapes; they formed great buildings, high and noble.

    ¡°Once, when man was still young, and magic wasn''t so rare, great wars plagued the kingdoms of this world. The Eldar races, known in folklore today as elves, fought against man in a savage clash for power over the land."

    The smoke turned into two armies, and the cries and roars of men echoed faintly through the room as Olaf continued.

    "The Eldar were scared that man would corrupt the land and destroy all life, so they fought against us. They almost won, but as the last noble line of man sought a way to end the war, they found the delving people known as the Dwarves in their great underground kingdom of Doflhiem, and struck a deal. The Dwarves had always hated the elves and envied them for their magical gifts, so the Dwarves crafted three great weapons out of the centre of a dying mountain and gave them to the three sons of the first king of man."

    The smoke swirled and depicted an axe, a sword, and a bow, each of which swirled around Marius''s head.

    "Man struck back at the Eldar and caught them unawares. They butchered many of the Eldar people until they finally surrendered. We exiled them to the East and kept this land as our own. The last king sought to prove the Eldar wrong, and tried to preserve as much as the magical nature of our land as he could, but as the noble line grew, more of man became selfish and greedy. Powerful merchants sought power and claimed land as their own. They hunted many of the mystical beasts that once roamed this land; killing many of them, and chasing the rest into hiding. The king''s sons became corrupt by the power their weapons gave, and ultimately failed to hold their power. As such, man started to fight amongst themselves, and split into thirteen kingdoms. Then, the inquisition of Alturine usurped the royal throne, and formed the holy empire to return order to the southern kingdoms. However, they distanced themselves from the supernatural by branding all northern kingdoms heretics and casting them out, forcing the Vakringuardian kingdoms to pillage, raid, and trade between themselves."

    Olaf exhaled deeply, and the smoke depiction of the port cities and various creatures faded, and were replaced by the holy cross encompassed by the circle of the Inquisition.

 Chapter 3

    Olaf tapped out the smouldering pipe weed that sat in his pipe''s bowl, and repacked it with new herbs. He looked up from his pipe at the boy; then, lighting his pipe with a click from his finger, he puffed out some more smoke. Savouring its taste for a moment, Olaf allowed the boy to take in what he had just been told.

    "So, boy, I have told you my name and given you a little history lesson; maybe you could be as kind as to return the favour? Could you tell me your name and what happened in Stonehill?"

    The boy drifted out from his thoughts and nodded whilst reaching out for another cup of tea. Olaf beat him to it, and helped him drink. Smiling his thanks, the boy tested and then cleared his throat.

    ¡°My name is Marius,¡± he said, and fell into his recount of the destruction of his home.

    Olaf looked at Marius, swathed the room in blue smoke, and nodded thoughtfully.

    "That''s a very interesting story, young Marius, and it may be that our stories are closely linked to one another. I think what you may have seen is the last remnants of the Eldar. They must have corrupted themselves to return from their exile, and that must be why they were raising the Nosaferatu ¨Cthe undead."

    Olaf frowned as the memories of ages past came whirling into focus: a great army all clad in silver plate mail commanding the ancient beasts of the old kingdoms; the fabled dragon knights of Lornea sat astride their massive mounts.

    "Were there really dragons in the old kingdoms?"

    Olaf snapped back to the present, and realised his thoughts were still linked to the smoke that filled the room. A vast dragon, three times the size of any other, reared and spouted flames over human troops; its rider, King Vlasmir, shot bolts of energy down upon his enemies.

    Olaf sighed. "Aye Marius, there were dragons; still are, in some parts of the world, although they are rare now. They hide in the far north, farther north than the Vakringuardian Kingdoms. After the corruption set in, man set out to destroy all of the ancient creatures. That one there," ¨Che gestured to the smoke dragon in the middle of the room ¨C"was called Golgoth, and was King Vlasmir''s personal steed. Vlasmir used magic to enlarge the dragon before its time and against its will, and as such corrupted his cause; that''s where the corruption started, you see. The Eldar always thought that man was the corruption, but when man struck back with the Dwarf weapons, the Eldar used their magic for personal gain. They grew and armed the ancient gods of the forest, and gave a higher intelligence to other creatures, such as the dragons, griffins, and an assortment of other beasts. I don''t know for sure the extent of their meddling, but after they cast their spells, the Eldar changed. Their magic diminished. and their long lives became shorter, as did that of man. So we cut them down and banished them. Man grew greedy, and the corruption spread to the younger generations; the monarchy disbanded and was replaced by the church, which in turn fed lies to the masses. Their fictions became fact and the disbelief of such things is what your people are now fed; these lies are now what is in the lands of Alturine."

    Marius watched the swirling smoke fly around the room, and felt the sadness fill the room as it dispersed.

    ...

    Finally, the Border Express slowed to a pulsing stop as the locomotive pulled up at the Alturine border station. Luther shuddered as he looked out onto the mist-shrouded platform, imagining snarling demons at every turn. Ice-glazed cobblestones crunched under his shined boots as he stepped onto the platform, his Elduinian Church uniform and scarf whipping around as the bitter northern wind engulfed him. Shadows of the other passengers flitted past him, causing him to recoil in fear. Taking deep breaths, Luther adjusted his spectacles, and set out into the mist, allowing it to swallow him whole.

    The commotion of noise that surrounded Luther seemed to fade into the distance as the crunching of his boots encompassed all sound. He focused on the slow rise and fall of his chest, and matched his breathing to the sound of his feet as he passed through the platform''s populace. The crunching underfoot suddenly came to an abrupt stop, and a loud squish sounded as Luther felt dread creep into his person. He fearfully looked down at his slightly raised left foot and groaned; his shined boot had become caked in the sludge of melted snow and mud. Worse still, as Luther looked up, he found that the cobblestones of the civilised south dropped away at the platform step, and opened out onto a freezing town built from stone and thatch.

    The mist from the locomotive station cleared and allowed Luther to gaze unhindered upon the icy summer morning. The settlement of Pasenholme was the northernmost stop on the railroad leading from Alturine''s capital, and took on the character of the Vakringuardian settlements beyond the border. Planks of wood had been laid across the roads and lane-ways to allow the townsfolk safe passage above the churned mud that carts and carriages bustled through, and the stone buildings, which seemed muddled together about the various streets, puffed smoke from their chimneys, giving the air an ashy taste. Pasenholme had become the major transport hub of the northern border with the introduction of the rail road, and was yet to accommodate the civilised structure of the south.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Luther stepped back onto the cobblestones and looked along its edge in hopeful search of further transportation. To his complete relief, he found a dark, weather-stained coach hitched to a pair of darker horses. Its rider leant against its side with his arms and legs folded, and a cowl pulled over his face. Luther strode over to the driver and stopped directly in front of him. The driver stirred, flicked his hood back slightly, and squinted up at Luther. Luther looked the man up and down, taking in the weather-stained cape and travel-stained trousers.

    The driver''s squinting dark eyes peered out from the shadows of the hood at Luther.

    "Can I help ye there, sir?" The coachman asked in a slurred mid country accent.

    Luther almost jumped, but then found his words in a stuttering fashion. "I... erm... yes, actually. Can you take me to the town of Stonehill a bit east of here?"

    The coachman scratched the back of his neck slightly in thought, and then nodded. "Aye sir, I can take ye. It''ll be a while though; Stonehill¡¯s some fairways off."

    Luther dipped his head in acknowledgment, and sighed. "That will be fine thank you. I am aware of the distance concerned."

    The driver nodded again, and smiled, showing half of his original teeth. "Aye, right you are then, sir." He boosted himself into the driving seat.

    Luther climbed into the coach itself, settled into its padded seat, and was just wrapping his arms against the cold when suddenly a hand clamped onto the doorframe outside. Luther had to hold back a scream as he fought to keep control of himself. The door opened slightly, and a strange broad-brimmed hat followed by a pair of twinkling eyes loomed up in front of a friendly face. The face wore a flashing white smile, and quickly offered a hand.

    "Hello there! My name is Alun Black; I heard that this coach is traveling to Stonehill¨Cis that right?"

    Luther stared at this strange man for a moment, deciding whether to jump out the other side of the coach, or shake the man''s hand. He studied the man''s face and then noticed his clothes and accent¨Ca southern gentleman.

    Luther blinked for a second and then took Alun''s hand. "Erm... yes... hello there, sir. My name is Luther Quail, and you are qu-quite correct, the coach is going to Stonehill. W- would you care to join us?"

    Alun looked at Luther strangely, but then flashed another smile and pulled himself into the coach. "I would be delighted to; old chap. Say ¨C what are you going to Stonehill for anyway?"

    Luther braced himself as the carriage jolted into motion. He glanced out of the window with a furtive gaze, and then became aware of Alun looking at him with a questioning look.

    Remembering the question, Luther glanced out of the window again and answered, "Oh...I am...um...yes, I am going to do a survey on the northern provinces for the Church of Elduin."

    Alun raised his eyebrows at the mention of the Church, and looked Luther up and down with a critical eye.

    Panic blossomed in Alun''s chest at the mention of the ruling Church of Alturine. He watched Luther closely, taking in the fidgeting and nervous eye movements. Alun gauged the threat, and then began to relax when he realised there was none. Luther was still glancing nervously out of his window; Alun leant back into his padded seat, took off his hat and flashed another smile in Luther''s direction, relieved to find that he was in control. Luther sent a sheepish smile back at Alun, then continued to gaze out at the passing scenery.

    Alun cleared his throat in an attempt to re-spark the conversation. "The Church?"

    He tried to be as unassuming as possible, and schooled his features into an innocent, inquisitive face.

    Luther looked back from the window and glanced at Alun. Sheepishly, he dipped his head in acknowledgment.

    "Yes, I am a surveyor for the Inquisitional Branch. I travel the empire recording the population and cultural habits of the people."

    Alun raised his eyebrows and quickly flashed another smile. "Oh, well that sounds interesting. Although¡­" Alun cocked one eyebrow and leant in closer to Luther. "Why would the Inquisition want to know the population and cultural habits of the public?"

    Luther seemed to struggle with this for a moment, but then responded in what seemed to resemble growing confidence. "The Elduinian Church surveys," he said, "in order to best gauge the use of their services."

    Alun felt the ridiculousness of this statement and began to see that Luther was not a seasoned traveller in the northern reaches of the Empire.

    Nodding, Alun allowed the statement to pass by, and decided to focus on the outside scenery instead of listening the other passenger''s rehearsed propaganda. Luther too grew disinterested with his companion, and eventually drifted off into an uneasy slumber.

    The further east they travelled, the more rugged the landscape became. Oak and maple trees littered the fields and roadside, and to the north, the Border Mountains loomed overhead, casting the farmlands and growing woodland in long, dark shadows. The road became wilder as the trees thickened; the shadows from the mountains caused the encompassing forest to become almost black beneath its branches.

    The carriage began to bump and sway over the growing roots that invaded the road. The deep shadows seemed to retract and the trees seemed to darken; beams of light trickled through the clearing branches.

    After a few hours, the branches finally cleared, showing a surprising scene of absolute desolation.

 Chapter 4:

    Luther''s eyes snapped open as Alun jumped from his seat and stared out of the window, wildly looking beyond. Luther''s blurred vision took in the clearing sight of a charred landscape as the driver pulled the carriage to a halt, and sat in dismay at the view that they all beheld. Alun opened the carriage door and stumbled out onto the scorched earth in disbelief; Luther felt his breath shorten with anxiety. The scene before him was terrifying. The whole town had been razed to the ground, and the surrounding forest had been reduced to a blackened, charred landscape, littered with small fires resembling the camping stoves of an enormous host.

    Alun stumbled over the charcoaled earth and down the slope that led to Stonehill. Tears welled in his eyes as his ash-sodden boots climbed the dumped scum that had been thrown from Stonehill''s streets by a flood. Dismembered limbs littered the surrounding area, and floated in puddles of blood and offal; the mud was mushed within this to give the earth a crimson tinge.

    Alun finally stepped onto the cobbled streets, tears now streaming down his cheeks. His childhood home was in ruins, and as he looked up at the ruined castle upon the cliff high above, he remembered as a child looking up at the same ruin. He recalled the smell of lumber, now marred by the stench about him. Tears fell from his chin as he saw his family from a past life: a brother with whom he fought, and a sister; a sister who was always there, even when all others were not. There were also his parents, whose kindness and understanding had guided him through his life¡¯s path to the man he now was. All were now lost and in their place ¨C emptiness.

    Alun stood in front of the source of the fire after wandering the desolate streets. He looked at this burned house in horror; the house had once been his, and as he stepped over the blackened threshold, he saw in the centre two sets of charred remains, picked bare and to the bone, lying side by side.

    A shuffling sound behind him caused Alun to swing around. Luther stood on the threshold, a handkerchief over his mouth as he peered into the doorway.

    "This was my home," Alun''s voice crawled out in a shattered croak.

    Luther stepped inside, saw the skeletons, swung around, and threw up on the cobbles outside. He sat shivering on the stone steps waiting for his companion to come back out and join him. The fresh smell of rain permeated from the stones that surrounded Luther and mixed in with the smoky smell of the extinguished fire.

    Alun eventually stumbled out into the street. His blue sparkling eyes had faded, leaving only tear-stained orbs to squint in the light of the sun. His hat crumpled in his clenched hand, which hung limply by his side, leaving his mousey hair to fall about his face.

    Together, they made their way back out of Stonehill in silence. A slight breeze chased away the sickening scent of the decaying scum on the outskirts. They began to mount the hill when all of a sudden crunching, ripping sounds alerted Luther and Alun to the top of the slope they were on.

    They shared a worried glance before running to the summit. Alun was in front, leaving Luther to fall a little behind, but then stopped short to find their carriage and horses being ravaged by strange mutated monsters. Brown fur stuck out randomly from their dark, leathery hides; their elongated forearms ended in strange, small, paw-like hands which manipulated black finger-like talons that ripped into the horse''s flesh and splintered the wooden carriage. The driver was nowhere to be seen, but the screams and distant howling from within the forest alerted Luther and Alun to his whereabouts. Together they stepped back, and decided to slowly head back down the slope in retreat.

    A crack resounded throughout the empty and scorched landscape, and seemed to rebound from each stone wall of the town below. Cringing, Luther looked down at the snapped branch beneath his shoe, then at Alun, and then back at the two monsters feasting upon the horses. Their ears began to swivel as the echoes of the crack died down. Then, as one, their heads slowly lifted from the destroyed horse carcasses and turned, displaying rows of razor sharp teeth that dripped with blood and displayed strips of hanging horse flesh caught between each fang. Yellow eyes glinted evilly out from the elongated faces of each demon as they slowly rounded on Alun and Luther.

    Luther closed his eyes and committed his stance, slowing his breathing and making himself believe that this wasn''t real. Alun''s panicked voice rang out in the wall of silence that had fallen.

    "What are you doing, you fool? RUN!"

    A hand grabbed underneath Luther''s arm and hauled him down the hill.

    Luther opened his eyes to see Alun dragging him towards Stonehill. In panic, he looked behind him to see the two wolf-like creatures bounding behind them, blood still drooling from their mouths, and strips of flesh streaming out behind them, letting out excited barks. The screams had died down in the surrounding forest, and were replaced by the triumphant howls of the driver''s hunters.

    But that was the last thing on Luther and Alun''s minds as they ran full pelt into Stonehill.

    They charged through the side streets blindly, tripping over the cobblestones, constantly hounded by the wolven monsters. Alun was still dragging Luther by his arm, and almost lifted him from his feet as they flew around corners. The ragged breathing of the beasts drew nearer, threatening to push Luther into a full-blown breakdown.

    Rounding another corner, they came skidding to a halt, and hit the stone wall that had stopped them. Terror filled Alun head to toe as he spun around to see the two leering, monstrous demons slow up and take in their victory. They sniffed the air and savoured their prey''s fear, and Luther sank down in a corner, babbling incoherently with his arms over his head.

    Suddenly, a sickening thud came out of nowhere, and Alun stared in amazement as he saw the closest monster''s life fade from its yellow eyes. The other beast span around and snarled so fearsomely that Luther collapsed in fright, hitting his head on the cobblestones beneath him, and knocking himself out cold. The dead beast slid to the ground to display an ornate silver axe protruding from the back of its skull.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    In the alley''s entrance, a short figure stood, his legs spaced shoulder-width apart, and a second, larger axe in both hands. The other monster gave a howl full of bloodlust and hatred. The short newcomer stood his ground and raised his axe. The afternoon light sparkled against the armour that hid beneath his black cloak. A hood had been pulled over his head and kept his face in shadow, but a thick red braided beard fell from its recesses onto the newcomer''s armoured chest.

    The beast pounced at the short armoured man with fangs and claws outstretched. At the last moment, the newcomer''s axe came up to meet the beast''s chin. He cleaved its face in half, sending its corpse flying backwards in the air, showering an arc of spattered gore. It landed at Alun''s feet, staring up at him with a single glassy eye, fluid pooling from its wound.

    ...

    Olaf closed Marius''s door behind him and walked down the high-vaulted stone corridor outside. Halfway down, the left-side wall gave way to pillars and displayed an amazing northern view overlooking the fork in the great Mother-locke River. From his castle, perched high, Olaf sat slightly north-east of Stonehill and the northern border mountains of Alturine.

    He leant against one of the pillars, and took in the fresh mountain air and appreciated the view. A creaking sound from down the hallway caused Olaf to lean around the pillar and scan the corridor for any signs of trouble. Marius''s head poked out from his doorway and took in the grand corridor. He spotted Olaf leaning against the pillar and shuffled over to him.

    Marius stopped, astonished, and took in the view; the snaking blue of the Mother-locke River spread on indefinitely into the north-eastern plains of the Vakringuardian Kingdoms. Marius realised that this must be where he was, because nowhere in the Alturine Empire could be this vast or this wild. High above the frosty grasslands, giant birds wheeled overhead, stalking the giant woolly cattle that grazed below.

    A strong northerly wind ripped through Marius''s clothes, and he realised for the first time that he was no longer wearing the same clothes as he had in Stonehill. He looked down at the leather tunic, thick woollen trousers, and doe-hide boots he was now wearing. He thought about where he was and what he was wearing, and looked up at Olaf.

    "Olaf, how did I get here?"

    Olaf looked down at Marius and smiled, and his blue tattoos subtly began to glow. "I transported you here with magic Marius.¡± He pulled out his pipe again and indicated to it as he began to pack in the tobacco. "I demonstrated a bit of it earlier with the smoke, but I can do a lot more than make fancy smoke rings, I can assure you.¡±

    Olaf placed the pipe in his mouth and puffed out a detailed landscape of the scene before them.

    "Magic?" Marius thought back to Stonehill and Eldrikch raising the dead, then to his miraculously healed injuries, and to Olaf''s smoke figures.

    He stared at the smoke mural in front of him, trying to comprehend what was happening. Marius hadn''t really processed how the impossible was happening, but now he had time to process, and he realised how close he had been to death and where he had ended up.

    Marius frowned and looked up at Olaf. "You saved my life. Why?"

    Olaf lifted one of his bushy eyebrows and looked down at Marius, smoke curling from his nose and through his beard. "Well, firstly I needed to find out what happened to your town, and secondly I am not in the habit of letting people die.¡±

    He let the smoke drift out over the landscape and savoured its taste. Marius looked out at the drifting smoke and thought about Eldrikch, throwing him across the square with a flick of his wrist.

    He looked back at Olaf. "Can you teach me?"

    At this, Olaf raised both of his eyebrows. "Can I teach you magic?"

    Marius nodded, firm on his question. "I want to protect myself. Can you teach me?"

    Olaf drew on his pipe once more and puffed out the blue tinged smoke. "No Marius, I cannot teach you magic. It is something that you are born with, or rather a skill which has been lost. But I can teach you how to defend yourself."

    Marius frowned. "How can I defend myself against magic?"

    Olaf smiled. "With my help and teachings I can assist you, Marius."

    Olaf pushed himself off from the pillar, and walked further down the corridor, smoke trailing behind his hulking frame, beckoning Marius to follow.

    "Where are we going?" he asked, frowning, but Olaf beckoned once more and continued down the corridor. Marius stumbled after Olaf, still frowning.

    The corridor opened out onto a massive hall that was lined with dusty banners and coats of arms mounted on shields in front of maces, swords, and an assortment of other weapons. The flagstone floor led into vast stone steps that wound around the hall leading up to each floor. Olaf started down the steps, his coat tails trailing behind him on each step, and his silver pauldron glinting in the dim light of the hall.

    Marius had never seen anything this size before; not even the ruins above Stonehill were this immense.

    Olaf walked across the vast landing that split the staircase in half to wind up to the other floors; the centre piece of the landing, a heavy oaken door, sat ajar. Olaf passed it by without a glance, leaving Marius to peer inside to see massive columns holding up a stone arched roof. High windows streamed light into the long hall and displayed a tall, stone throne with detailed carvings that led to the ceiling.

    "Are you coming, lad?"

    Marius turned around to see Olaf standing in the middle of the great hall, looking up at him expectantly. Marius hurried as Olaf continued on.

    The ground floor contained numerous doors, all similar sizes, however two stood differently from the others. The main door sat opposite the throne room, and was decorated with high arches that dominated the northern wall. The second door was only slightly larger than the others, but was darker in colour. Dark hand prints littered the edges and fell around the door''s handle, and as Marius drew nearer he realised the dark marks were ancient blood stains.

    A shiver crept up his spine. Olaf pushed the door open and continued into the corridor beyond.

    Marius pushed past the bloodstained door and took in the new corridor. Lamps flickered on the walls in between massive horned skullswith sharp fangs that glittered in the lamplight. Marius looked up and saw that these were not the only skulls that lined the walls. Various shapes and types littered the high reaches of the corridors, and other strange and foreign weapons were amidst the shining bones.

    Marius took it all in, then turned to see Olaf looking at him.

    "What do you think, lad?" A hint of depression lingered over Olaf as he stood amongst the countless trophies.

    "What are all these, Olaf?" Marius pointed to the skulls first, then at the weapons.

    Olaf looked at them all slowly, then walked over to a particularly large horned skull and laid one of his massive hands upon one of its horns.

    "Remember when I told you about the dragons?"

    Marius slowly nodded and looked up at the skulls; Olaf indicated to the nearest and largest.

    "Well, here they are, as well as other things.¡±

    Olaf turned around and continued down the corridor. It ended in another set of bloodstained doors, and as Olaf opened them a great gust of wind poured into the corridor, causing the lamps to flicker. A high space lay beyond, and at a small mutter from Olaf, flames burst into life from torches on the wall to display a huge arena.

 Chapter 5:

    This,¡± Olaf''s voice boomed in the vast reaches of the arena, "was once the place where all men, and sometimes Dwarves, came to prove their metal.¡±

    Marius stood in the sandy centre, and looked up at the high seats and stalls that surrounded the arena, and the statues littering the high alcoves. A hulking statue stood above the entrance, twice the size of any other; a huge male figure with a winged helmet wielded a mighty war-hammer in a triumphant pose.

    Olaf followed Marius''s gaze and smiled. "That is Vingthor, god of strength and storm.¡±

    Marius looked confused, and Olaf remembered the Alturine Inquisition''s heretic witch hunts. He cursed, and looked back up at the statue of Vingthor.

    "Look Marius, the Alturine Inquisition has stamped out the true gods from their Empire, and made the people follow their god Elduin."

    Marius became more confused at this, and Olaf signalled to a few benches that lined the walls of the arena.

    He seemed to take a moment to collect his thoughts as he emptied and repacked his pipe.

    "Lad, in order for you to learn under me, we need to go a bit further back in time than our little history lesson about the Eldar. Are you prepared to do that?"

    Marius felt his curiosity spike and looked up at Olaf with a questioning gaze, thinking of Olaf''s outburst about the true gods. Olaf stared back at Marius with his piercing blue eyes. Marius nodded and waited for Olaf to begin.

    Olaf cleared his throat and took a puff on his pipe. This time, no figures or sounds came from the smoke. Only Olaf''s voice could be heard now, speaking in its lyrical rhythm.

    "No one knows how the earth was created or how the gods began, but one day they were there, as were the Eldar, and the Dwarves. There were three original gods, and they were Oedin, Elduin, and Aelin. These three gods protected the Eldar and Dwarves against the shadowy abyss that spewed hateful demons onto our realm."

    Olaf puffed out more smoke, savoured it for a moment, then continued with the story.

    "These three gods protected the mortal Eldar and Dwarves for thousands of years, until finally Aelin had had enough of the battles. He sought a way to close the abyss and protect the mortals for eternity. He searched for ages; the lands changed, and kingdoms grew and fell. Finally, part way through a dynasty of Eldar kings, a few small tribes of men settled, and came into service of the Dwarves, and brought with them a sacred seed and their goddess Erin, more commonly known as the Mother Earth. Erin gave the seed to Aelin in order to help protect her human mortals, however Aelin wanted to protect all mortal people, and included the Eldar and Dwarves in his spell. In doing so, the spell took his immortality away from him, and the seed grew into the great tree Yggdrasil, and sealed the abyss for all eternity, giving both mortals and Gods peace.

    "Aelin fled the known world as a mortal, never to be seen again, and Oedin grew to love Erin, leaving Elduin to tend the Eldar and Dwarves on his own. However, Elduin had never liked the delving Dwarves, and concentrated his efforts on the Eldar, who grew proud and selfish. Oedin and Erin married, and under their union, Man and Dwarves became closer, and both became detached from the Eldar. Erin became pregnant, and had twin boys named Vingthor and Luka, who in turn grew in hatred of each other. Vingthor became an acclaimed hunter and outdid Luka in everything. Luka turned to dark magic and created a creature named Gwendol the monster queen, and together they had two sons; Glauran, who tamed all dragons, and later Benzar, who ruled the demonic creations his mother made. Vingthor became a great warrior against these demons and drove them back, protecting the mortal races.

    "Oedin, seeing the growing war between his sons, created the Hollinhalla or the Holy Halls. These three great halls presided over the realms richest lands, and protected the inhabitants. Oedin himself took the High Halls of Valhalla, and he gave the Stromhalla, or Storm Halls, to his son Vingthor, and the Undarhalla, or the Under Halls, to his son Luka. Luka, now realising he was losing, gave his sons more power. Glauran transformed the dragons into great, almost demonic beasts, and Benzar fed his demons more energy. Together they pushed Vingthor back into his halls, trapped him there, and brought on an age of darkness to the realm. That would have been the end of the world; Luka and his sons had become too powerful even for Oedin and Elduin to control. However, as you can see it was not the end. A human princess named Claindol came to Vingthor seeking to heal him, and the Dwarves brought a vast hammer called Mjolnir blessed by Oedin. Together with Claindol and Mjolnir, Vingthor regained his strength in secret."

    Marius looked up as Olaf looked into his pipe, inspecting the charred remains of his tobacco.

    "What happened next, Olaf? What did Vingthor do?"

    Olaf repacked the pipe and smiled. "He had two sons of his own. Vingthor came to love Claindol for what she had done for him, and in kind he made her his immortal wife. Together, they had two sons: Viktos and Kaehan. With his sons, the hammer Mjolnir, and an army of mortal Men and Dwarves, Vingthor marched on his brother''s and nephews'' demonic horde and obliterated them. Vingthor killed his brother just as Kaehan killed Glaurun, and together Vingthor and his army drove Benzar back and ended the ancient God Wars. After that, Oedin created The Veil in order to separate Hollinhalla from the mortal realms, and named Kaehan the Guardian of the Veil. Benzar married a young witch who wanted immortality, and together they stayed in Undarhalla plotting away. Viktos married a young human princess named Mira, and had a son called Mathius, who fell through The Veil before it was completed, and became the king of men ¨C the same king of men who fought against Vlasmir in the Elf Wars and had the three sons who wielded the Elf-Bane."Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    Marius sat in amazement, trying to imagine the God Wars and how striking Vingthor would have been on the battlefield. A thought came to him.

    "Olaf."

    Olaf looked up from his brooding and fixed Marius with his gaze. Thoughtfully he answered, "Yes, Marius?"

    Marius looked around and indicated the arena. "How has that got anything to do with you teaching me how to defend myself?"

    Olaf took a moment to think, and then stood up before speaking slowly. "Because, the events I have just told you have directly affected your life. Every decision each God made shaped your life as it is today. If Aelin had not created Yggdrasil, the Gods would have ultimately failed and wiped out all mortal races. If Vingthor had joined Luka, the same could have happened. If I am to teach you, Marius, you need to learn that whatever you do, and however powerful you become, your choices will have direct consequences on something or someone else."

    Marius nodded. "I will keep that in mind,¡± he said.

    Olaf smiled and strode over to a cage in the arena''s wall. Swinging the door wide open, Olaf pulled a vast weapons rack out with a wide smile showing beneath his beard.

    "So lad, what do you like to hit things with?"

    ...

    Alun stared at the cleaved beast between his feet, then up at his saviour. Luther whimpered in his crumpled, unconscious state. The short, axe-wielding stranger looked down at Luther then up at Alun. She pulled back her black hood to reveal a shaggy red head of hair which fell behind her in braided strands. Gold clasps held these braids together in a stylised ponytail that spiked out at strange angles. Her nose was pierced with a single gold ring through her left nostril which sparkled against her armour, and her amber eyes glinted under her red, bushy eyebrows. The short woman took a step forwards, and wrenched her silver throwing axe away from the first beast''s skull with a sickening squelch.

    Wiping away the slime on the dead beast''s fur, their saviour threaded the axe through a loop at her side, walked over to Alun and extended a gloved hand.

    "Hello there, I am Orei, at your service."

    Alun stood there blinking stupidly for a moment before he took the hand.

    "Uh... and... Alun? At yours?"

    Orei regarded him with a critical eye for a moment, then cocked her head as the forest chimed with the howls of returning beasts. Orei looked down at Luther and shook her head, then regarded Alun for the second time.

    "Right, Alun was it?"

    Alun nodded.

    "Can you lift limpy here?" Orei indicated to Luther, and Alun nodded again. "Good, now follow me close and don''t stop for nothing, you hear me?"

    Alun hefted Luther over his shoulder, and sagged from the weight as Orei checked the mouth of the alley for any signs of trouble. Seeing the coast was clear, they began to jog through the streets at a steady pace.

    The howling came closer to Stonehill as the beasts loped away from the smashed carriage and demolished horses, trailing the scent of their fallen comrades. Orei sped up as they left the outskirts of Stonehill and headed into the eastern border of the Black Forest.

    As the trees thickened and the shadows darkened, Orei pulled up her hood and drew a canister from her cloak. She turned around and signalled for Alun to keep moving. Alun felt Luther''s weight drag at him, but determination fixed his step. The ground grew steeper as the foothills of the eastern mountains came underfoot. Alun continued in this easterly direction with a constant worry for Orei; distant howls echoed through the trees as well as a strange hissing noise. A sudden sound behind him caused Alun to spin around, and relief flooded into him as Orei sprinted up behind, her black cloak flaring out behind him, leaving her armour to twinkle against the surrounding tree trunks. She ran past and signalled Alun to follow her.

    Alun picked up his pace and followed Orei through the twisting maze of the forest. The ground became steeper and steeper as the run turned into a climb, and Luther''s legs dragged against the forest floor, kicking up decomposing leaves, and occasionally getting caught on roots.

    They finally reached the summit of one of the foothills, and Alun peered out at the sweeping green forest that spanned out beneath them. Orei pointed out south to a break in the great green. A small grey crack between two mountains far off could be seen just above Orei''s index finger.

    "That," Orei said, "is where we''re headed. I''ve delayed those bastard wargs, but not for long I fear."

    As if on cue, the strangled howls of the beasts echoed in the distance, but they were further off and weaker than the rage-filled howls from before. Alun looked out at the grey crack in despair. It was so far away, and with every step, Luther seemed to become heavier.

    Orei pulled out another canister and placed it in a cradle of a nearby tree. Alun watched as Orei pulled string from its lid, and unwound it, then tied it to a branch across from where they had just come.

    She looked back at Alun and smiled.

    "This is a trip wire," she explained, indicating to the string. "Wargs come through here and get drowned in sulphur-infused gas, which stuffs up their sense of smell."

    Alun smiled back at Orei and felt a little hope glimmer within him as he looked at the bomb. When she had finished, Orei signalled Alun to carry on down the slope. They had made it into a small gully that led to the grey crack by the time Orei''s trip wire was triggered. Allowing themselves a brief satisfactory glance back to the top of the hill, they saw yellow gas pouring above the branches. Howls of disgust echoed out as they continued on, large smiles on both faces.

    ¡°Glad that worked,¡± said Orei, leaving Alun to stop and stare dumbfounded with Luther hanging limply from his shoulders.

 Chapter 6:

    Beams of light trickled down as the branches pulled back to show a clearing. To the far side, a vast grey crack displayed the joining point between the two giant mountains which towered overhead. Orei clasped her hands around her mouth and achieved a shrill whistle before slowly making her way into the centre of the clearing, all the while looking around her; she beckoned Alun to follow.

    Alun was exhausted from his desperate flight from Stonehill. His legs dragged and his eyelids drooped. Luther became almost unbearable to carry and it was at that moment when Alun''s foot caught on a root, sending him and the unconscious Luther sprawling across the clearing. As Alun lay there he heard several amused chuckles echo around the clearing, and as he watched, short men, like Orei, shuffled out from the trees.

    Alun got to his feet, leaving Luther sprawled out on the forest floor behind him, and made his way over to the group. Orei was smiling as the other men walked over to her.

    "Hello, brothers!" She cried, as she grabbed each one by the wrist and pulled them into an embrace, merrily slapping them on the back.

    The first to speak did so in a harsh rasping voice that Alun did not understand. This short man''s hair and beard almost glowed snowy white and was clad in wavy pigtails with strands of silver wire braided within them. His armour sparkled silver, and Alun could see his reflection in the breastplate.

    Orei responded in the same rasping language leaving Alun to stand uncomfortably by her side. Feeling the foreign conversation turn to him, Alun watched the animated faces of the participants. It seemed that the short men in the area guarded the perimeter, whilst the elder man was in charge and conversed with Orei. The conversation came to an end, and Orei looked up at Alun with a smile.

    "Alun, I would like you to meet Saurin, Master of the Western Gate."

    Alun bobbed his head in Saurin''s direction and extended a hand. Saurin regarded it for a moment then took it, almost crushing Alun''s hand in the process.

    Saurin turned and indicated the others to follow, and Alun looked over to see Luther being carried by the other men. He glanced down at Orei as they made their way into the shadowed crack between the mountains.

    "Orei?"

    Orei shot a look in Alun¡¯s direction.

    "What language were you speaking just then?" Asked Alun.

    Orei smiled up at Alun beneath her glinting eyes. "¡¯Twas Dwarvish, long shanks, the language of my people. Unfortunately, it is becoming rare to speak it now as we find it easier to communicate in the common speech of man, but some still honour the old ways."

    Alun started when he heard the word Dwarf. Orei looked up at him questioningly for the second time, and Alun looked around, realising that everyone had stopped, waiting for him to continue walking.

    Alun walked on and gave Orei a sideways glance. "Dwarvish ¨C as in Dwarves?"

    Orei smiled and frowned at the same time, giving Alun a strange look. "Aye Dwarves, that is us. What did you think we were, Alun, Hobgoblins?"

    Alun gave a sheepish smile, and Orei burst into laughter.

    All the while, the crack they walked in became smaller, and the walls became steeper until they found themselves in a thin corridor. Finally, up ahead Alun could see an end to the vast stony funnel. Carvings began to line the walls and murals decorated the upper reaches. Heroic battles were displayed dragons and other strange beasts fighting short, bearded, axe-wielding Dwarves.

    Saurin sighed as he looked up at the murals. "Behold, Alun; the battle of Eldar-echt, or, in your tongue, ¡®The Elves End¡¯. A good day for all."

    Alun looked up at the mural confused, and then stopped as the corridor came to end. A vast golden door glittered in the dying light of the day, making shadows stretch and distort. The murals became strange and demonic, and Alun itched to be on the other side of the gilded door. A strange thundering, grinding noise resounded though the corridor, resembling an earthquake and Alun looked up to see the golden gates swing open.

    Saurin indicated inside with a sweeping arm. "Welcome, Alun, to the Dwarven city of Doflhiem."

    ...

    Olaf''s sword flew through the air as he spun around Marius. The sword soared over Marius''s head and landed into Olaf''s outstretched hand, which swung around and touched Marius''s left temple.

    "That is strike two, Marius. Concentrate now ¨C again!"

    Olaf had been drilling Marius for days now, teaching him the subtle moves of sword mastery, the positioning of the feet, the fluid movements of the body, and the gauging of the opponent. Each time they had practiced, Olaf had been completely different, displaying different moves, and doing different things in order to confuse Marius. With each session, Marius felt himself improve, but it was still impossible to touch his opponent. It had almost started easily, and Marius was sure that if Olaf went that easy now, he would be able to win, but Olaf increased the level with every session, causing Marius to constantly work harder. He swung his sword, but knew instantly it was too slow; Olaf deflected with ease and began to instruct him again.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    "Too slow, Marius, now lunge! Too slow¨C faster lunge! Faster! Again! Now block¨C duck! Roll! Good, now swing! Defend! Too slow! That is strike three, but well done. That will be all for now, let¡¯s go and have some food."

    Marius placed his wooden sword back on its rack next to Olaf''s. Olaf went over to his real, giant, shimmering sword and hooked it on his back, then made his way out from the arena with an aching, shuffling Marius in tow. They passed through the Dragon skull corridor, where Marius occasionally glanced at a particularly gnarled specimen, but by now he was too tired to ask its history. They passed through the great hall and crossed it straight to the eating hall where a vast table wrapped around three sides of a massive fireplace that was set into the flagstone floor. Olaf clicked his fingers, setting the huge fire ablaze. He grabbed two bowls from the table, and sat down waiting for the broth to boil in a massive cauldron.

    Marius felt himself drifting off, when Olaf tapped him on the shoulder and handed him a bowl. The broth, as always, tasted bland, and had a slimy texture, packed with essentials. Olaf said it was good for a stable diet, but Marius would sooner believe the concoction to be poison. He ate his broth regardless, then turned in for the night, leaving Olaf to stir the cauldron and smoke his pipe.

    ¡­

    Marius awoke as the countless Vakringuardian birds outside played their shrill morning salute. He crawled out from his bed covers and shivered at the cold air. Shuffling over to his desk, Marius pulled on his leather tunic and boots which lay crumpled under his chair. The morning sun shone through the high windows as he pulled open his door, filling the gloomy hall with beams of fuzzy, dust filled light. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Marius let his weight fall on each leg as he descended the stairs. He looked up to see Olaf pull open his bedroom door and starting down the other set of stairs. A cup of steaming tea was in his hand, and his large leather overcoat was folded over his arm to show the faded, blue, woollen shirt that he wore underneath ¨C and as always, the magical, glittering sword sat on his back.

    Olaf met Marius on the landing, despite starting his descent later and further up.

    "Good morning, Marius. I trust you slept well."

    Marius sleepily nodded. "Yeah, it was a good, how about you?"

    Olaf smiled. "Aye mine was good too. No more nightmares I trust?"

    For the first few nights, Marius had had crippling nightmares of Stonehill, but rigorous training had pushed away those dark thoughts.

    "No, none."

    Olaf gave a gruff nod in satisfaction as they entered the eating hall.

    Marius poured himself some tea from a small iron kettle, as Olaf hollowed out two loaves of bread and filled them with broth. Together, they made their way to the arena with both broth and tea in hand. Finishing his tea, Marius used chunks of his bread to soak up the broth. This was a better method of eating the slimy muck, but Marius still cringed as a particularly slimy chunk slid down his throat.

    Olaf and Marius sat side by side in the arena, slurping away at chunks of sodden bread. When they had finally finished, Olaf stood up and faced Marius again.

    "Are you ready?" He asked, in his booming voice that was far too bold for morning.

    Marius dusted off the crumbs from his bread, and wiped the remnants of the slimy broth on his tunic''s front. Giving a nod, he walked over to the weapons rack and pulled off the two weighted sticks that acted as their swords. Olaf put his overcoat down, and unhooked his sword from his back. Taking the training sword, Olaf took up his stance and circled Marius, who in turn circled Olaf, assessing every angle.

    Marius pounced, driving the tip of his wooden sword in mid-air, thus producing a flying lunge. Olaf side stepped, and brought his sword up and under Marius''s feet, causing Marius to sail past harmlessly, then hook face first into the sand. Marius rolled over and sprawled on the arena floor, spitting and coughing up the lungful of sand he had just consumed. Once he had recovered, Marius got to his feet, and assumed the position once again opposite Olaf, who stood leaning on the handle of his wooden sword, treating it like a cane.

    Olaf shook his head. "Too risky, Marius. We should try something different, something that will teach you to be cautious."

    Olaf went over to the weapons rack, and pulled out a steel long sword. He had taught Marius different types of swords as they were training, and how to hold each type; this was a hand and a half long sword, allowing its wielder to use a shield as well as both hands when needed. Olaf threw the sword at Marius, who yelped and jumped out of the way as it missed him, and embedded itself in the sand. Marius began to flush angrily, but then saw Olaf''s serious face. He weighed the blade in his hands, and compared to his wooden sword. Although his practice sword was weighted with iron, the long sword was a significant difference.

    Olaf gestured to the practice sword, and Marius threw it to him, half hoping he would be hit by it. Olaf caught it with ease, then sat down by his glittering blade, and pulled out his pipe; Marius followed.

    Olaf looked up at Marius and acted confused. "What are you doing, lad?"

    Marius stopped and frowned. Olaf gestured behind Marius, and as he turned, Marius watched two shadowy, black armoured knights begin to form out of nothing. Marius looked back at Olaf, and saw his blue tattoos glowing brightly. With a clap of Olaf''s giant hands, the knights took up positions against Marius.

    Olaf leant forward and touched Marius on the arm. "Watch out for the swords, lad, they''ll give you quite a shock."

    With another clap, the knights jumped into action, leaving Marius to defend himself as best he could. The shadowy swords flew past him, and Marius felt the change in weight as he tired quickly. He blocked and parried, taking up the defensive stances almost as soon as the round began, but the two knights pushed him back, and Marius struggled as he avoided the swinging blades.

    Olaf was silent as Marius struggled. He sat and watched the young lad deflect each blow, and saw him slow down. The shadowy blades came closer to Marius with each hit; Marius ducked and weaved, and he managed to establish a rhythm with his defence as he doggedly fended both knights off and away from him.

    Suddenly, the rhythm changed, and before he was able to stop it, Marius felt a surging pain hit him in his right side. Looking down, he saw one of the shadowy swords had slipped through his defence and caught him between the ribs. With a clap from Olaf, both knights disappeared into shadows and the pain went with them, leaving Marius to pant in shock.

    Olaf got up and walked over to Marius to place a hand on his shoulder. "You did well lad. Have a rest, then maybe afterward we''ll take it a little bit slower, ok?"

    Marius nodded, stood up, and carried his sword after him. Olaf went over to the weapons rack again, and grabbed the sword''s scabbard, handing it to Marius as they rested for a moment.

 Chapter 7:

    Alun looked out from his balcony at the bustling underground city of Doflhiem. The vast prison dominated his view, situated on the level below. The prison was essentially a hollow rock suspended by thick chains over the centre of the Doflhiem canyon; a single entrance and exit was extended and retracted when needed. Orei had described it as one of the most secure places ever built.

    He thought back to his and Luther''s arrival. Luther had not taken the existence of Dwarves well ¨C he had blatantly denied it at first, saying that the Church said that they weren''t real. Then, when the realization had sunk in, he stuck to his room writing furiously. Alun had gone to see Luther a few times, but they had been short and uneventful visits as Luther kept to his writing and said little. The Dwarves supplied him with a constant stream of paper and ink, deciding that they preferred a scribbling maniac over a screaming one.

    Alun turned from the balcony and looked for his Dwarven-made jacket. His room was carved into one of the mountains Doflhiem occupied, made centuries ago during the Elf-Wars for the human troops who stayed here, thus giving the room a slightly larger feel than the majority of Doflhiem''s sleeping quarters. The room had Dwarf styling, giving everything an angled and precise edge with carved scrolling included in the furniture, walls, and doors.

    His jacket lay crumpled by the door. Picking it up and pulling it on, he felt the heavy weight of leather fall about him. The insides of the jacket had soft, woollen padding, keeping its wearer warm; the outside was quilted then boiled, to give the leather an almost rock hard exterior. As with everything the Dwarves made, it fit perfectly. The sleeves had been styled to look like bracers to protect his arms from stinging bow strings, or deflecting an axe or sword swing. The Dwarven fastening mechanism zipped up the front, then a flap folded and buttoned over to protect the opening. The chest and back were covered with subtle quilting, and the shoulders were doubled up with protection, and resembled pauldrons which had strange heads shaped on each one. Dwarven runes littered the garment, and Orei had told Alun these runes protected him from a misplaced arrow, and gave him strength when he needed it.

    The rest of Alun''s new wardrobe consisted of leather padded trousers, and Dwarf style boots ¨C which meant heavy and metal clad. Luther had been given the same, but had refused and instead preferred to wear the ruined clothes he had worn in Stonehill. Alun left his jacket unzipped, showing the cotton spun shirt beneath. He opened his door and entered into the low halls of the military quarter. The city bustled around him as Alun walked out into one of the countless main streets of Doflhiem. The city was carved out from a vast underground canyon that wound beneath the eastern border mountains ¨C or the Mjolik Fjords as the Dwarves named them. According to Orei, the eastern wastes had once been a great sea that surged and carved great ravines and crags in the Dwarves ancestral home of Mjolik, but due to the devastation of the outside world, the Dwarves retreated to their mines and created the underground city of Doflhiem. It was structured in tiered levels: at the bottom of the Doflhiem Canyon, rivers of magma were channelled, and they flowed past the various workshops that chimed and tinkered away, filling the city air with the sounds of hard work and industry. These workshops powered the city: they made weapons and armour for the rangers and warriors; they made drills and picks for the miners; and developed chemical compounds that blew holes in the rocks to open up more mines, and expand the ever growing city. Lifts and magnetic train mechanisms carried Dwarves vertically and horizontally through the maze of Doflhiem. The master artisans and inventors from these workshops could make anything, and were the most respected in Dwarf society.

    Alun had been walking the streets daily, taking in the new civilization. Vakringuardian traders occasionally littered the crowd, selling furs and other northern goods. As a whole, the Dwarves were a jolly, hospitable people, so it was easy for a stranger like Alun to stroll through the streets. He found that whoever he asked, either for directions or help, both were given freely.

    The military quarters where Alun and Luther were staying was situated in the mid-section of the Canyon, giving Alun easy access to transport. As he walked, Alun passed one of the many pubs that occupied the city, and heard the beats of a drum pulse out from the door, accompanied by the deep rolling tones of Dwarven singing. Alun managed to resist entering, and walked past the musical bar, deciding to set out for the workshops instead.

    Alun descended in one of the many Dwarven lifts, sinking below the prison. He looked up at its immense size, shivering at the thought of it coming loose. The lift resembled the carriages of Alturine, however instead of wood, the cladding was replaced with metal; Orei had said that this was to enable the lift to withstand the pressures that were placed upon it by the general public.

    Finally, after a nerve-wracking descent, Alun''s lift touched the bottom of the canyon, and opened out onto the Smithing district. Alun opened the lift''s doors and hopped out. The air here was thicker than higher up, and the noise from the surrounding forges was almost deafening. Alun winced at each hammer beat, and feeling stifled, desperately wished he had left his jacket in his room.

    Doflhiem''s Smithing district had a tier system of its own, just like the main city itself. The forges further down and closer to the lava streams were considered the better locations, and were worked by the master smiths, due to the close proximity to the lava. The Dwarven master smiths were able to heat their metal to a higher rate; this allowed their forges to burn out any impurities within their metal, thus producing a stronger, purer product. The higher forges either charged a lower price for cheaper work, or invented mechanisms and concoctions that in turn created masters in different fields.

    Alun walked down the side streets taking in the peculiar sights and smells, when suddenly a familiar figure walked out from an inventor¡¯s forge.

    Orei looked up, and gave a cheery smile. Alun smiled back, and went over to meet her.

    "Hello Orei, fancy seeing you down here. What are you up to?"

    Orei chuckled, and pulled out a canister identical to the ones she had used in their flight from Stonehill. "The last trip I made, I used up a bit more of my stores than I had anticipated, if you remember. So, I came down here to stock up. I see you''re still exploring my great city."This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    Alun nodded. "Aye, I decided to explore the legendary forges you seemed so proud of last time we spoke. Any chance of giving me a guided tour?"

    Orei gave a pained look, and shook her head. "I¡¯m so sorry Alun, but alas, I cannot. I¡¯m required at the western gate in an hour. I only came down to pick these up before my shift."

    Alun smiled at Orei to show him no harm had been done. "That¡¯s alright, I was going to check this place out on my own anyway. Luther still hasn''t decided to leave his room, and I wanted to see as much as I can of Doflhiem. Good luck with your shift. Maybe we can meet up afterward for a drink?"

    Orei''s warm smile returned. "Aye, that''d be grand, lad. I''ll meet you in your room when I¡¯m done, I should only be a few hours."

    Alun agreed, and watched Orei jog off towards the direction of the lifts.

    ...

    A single black shadowy knight stood with its legs shoulder width apart, and both hands upon its shadowy blade. Marius waited. He watched for a twitch or a flicker, a single sign of movement¨C there were none.

    Deciding enough was enough, Marius pounced. He flew through the air, allowing his long sword to trail behind him. Olaf stayed silent, puffing on his pipe, as the black knight brought its blade up in an attempt to hook Marius around the feet, and send him sprawling. Marius knew it would happen; he saw the tell-tale signs as the shoulders flinched. Instantly, Marius prepared himself for a roll, and brought his sword across to deflect his opponent.  The tinging sound of metal against metal resonated, then a scraping slide as the shadowy sword was deflected. Marius hit the arena floor with his right shoulder, and rolled, bringing his sword up behind him as he did so. His sword caught his opponent off balance, and sliced it just above the left knee, then continued up its back, causing the shadow knight to scream and fall, then flicker into nothingness.

    Olaf raised a single eyebrow. His tattoos still glowed, and Marius had learned not to celebrate a victory too early. He had been training for two weeks now, after he had had a few days¡¯ rest to recover from the destruction of Stonehill, and that meant that two and a half weeks ago, he had been a crumpled mess on the brink of death. Now, he was a force to be reckoned with.

    Sword in hand, Marius waited, listening for movement, feeling the ground with his feet for vibrations. A slight shiver to his left caused Marius to swing around and pull up his sword in defence. This time, a shadowy ranger stood before him. The knife it had thrown bounced off of Marius''s blade, and embedded itself into the sand a few feet from where Marius stood. Marius circled the ranger until he was in the centre of the arena, then waited. The ranger seemed to be waiting too, but Marius could see the slight twitch in its right hand.

    Suddenly, as Marius expected, the ranger unsheathed its bow, and knocked an arrow into place. Taking aim, it fired, letting loose the projectile. Marius rolled out of harm¡¯s way and charged at the ranger. The ranger dropped its bow, and pulled out two large, double ended knives, which curved back. These were legendary Eldar weapons that Olaf had called glaives. This was unexpected, but Marius adjusted his grip, and slid on his knees to deliver a hacking slice towards the figure''s abdomen.

    The under-blade of the ranger''s right glaive sliced down, causing Marius to ditch his approach. He brought his hilt up in defence, and caught the glaive, then pushed it back. Again, Marius had his opponent off balance, but this time he was unable to exploit the opening as he slid by.

    Marius tucked himself into a roll, and as he pulled out from it, he found himself next to the shadowy dagger from the start of the round. Picking it up, he span around to see the ranger charge again. Hiding the dagger behind him, Marius stood¨C his sword in one hand, pointing at his target; the dagger in the other, waiting for the opportune moment.

    The ranger continued to charge, and Marius continued to wait. The distance between them shrank, and Marius picked his moment to strike. When the ranger was a few feet away, Marius threw the dagger. It sailed through the air, and covered the distance between them until the ranger deflected it with its left glaive.

    This was the moment Marius was waiting for. The slight off balance caused by the deflection was enough for Marius to exploit. He swung around to the right, and pointed the tip of his long sword at the ranger''s shoulder. He lunged, using the slight angle from off balance, and hit the ranger just above its reaching defence. A scream sounded, and the ranger fell into shadows.

    Olaf clapped loudly. His pipe was in his mouth puffing out smoke, and Olaf nodded his approval. "Well done, Marius, well done! Exactly so, right on the mark!"

    Marius stood panting, waiting for his breath to come back to him. Finding his voice, he thanked Olaf. Confident today''s session was now over, Marius sheathed his sword and waited for Olaf to tell him what to do next. Olaf stood up and un-clipped the silver pauldron from his shoulder. He pulled on his over coat, reattaching the pauldron as he did so.

    Marius watched, excited to see a difference in routine. Olaf shrugged on his glistening sword and faced Marius. Marius stood expectantly, as Olaf emptied his pipe then stowed it away in his great overcoat.

    He looked down at Marius and said, "You have done very well in such a short time Marius, I think you might be a natural. Either way, you can defend yourself well enough. You understand the founding principles of swordsmanship, and you are well on your way to mastering the ways of the sword. Every swordsman needs a sword worthy of their deeds, and I believe it is time we replaced that butter knife of yours with something a bit more appropriate."

    Marius felt hurt for a moment as he looked down at his long sword. The shiny steel cross-guard seemed to shimmer faithfully in the flickering lamplight of the arena. The worn wooden handle fit his hand perfectly, and the pommel had saved him from one of Olaf''s apparitions more times than he could count. Then the realization of a new sword sank in, and Marius smiled to himself. He would keep his old blade as a token of his learning, but a new sword would be nice.

    Olaf saw Marius''s smile, and positively beamed back. "Right" He said. "Let¡¯s go pick you out a sword then."

    Olaf paced out from the arena, clearly excited, leaving Marius to jog after him. Olaf strode out into the great hall with Marius in tow. He opened one of the many doors that littered the ground floor, and descended the stone steps that lay on the other side. Marius followed him down, and noticed a strange glow coming from the base of the stairs.

    Marius reached the last step, and lost his breath as he took in the view. A massive, cavernous room lay beyond. Gold was piled in the corners, and he could make out so much more in overflowing chests and weapons racks. Crowns, jewels, and shimmering weapons all lined the walls and floor, and Marius felt his jaw drop, unable to comprehend what he was seeing.

    Olaf chuckled to himself as he saw Marius''s expression. "Well, Marius, this is what happens when you lead a life of heroism. Now let¡¯s find that sword of yours, shall we?"

    Marius managed a nod as he felt his feet move to follow Olaf, who was now going over to each weapons rack, and pulling out multitudes of swords, placing them in the middle of the room. Marius went over and started feeling the grip of each sword, testing them for straightness and weight.

 Chapter 8:

    "I''ll take this one," Marius proclaimed after a short time of delving through Olaf¡¯s hoard. He lifted up the sword and smiled. It was longer than his long sword but it was also thinner, about two finger widths across, and the ivory handle, wrapped in loose black leather, fit perfectly in his hands. Instead of the hand and a half sword he was used to, this handle fit both hands easily. The cross guard was thin, straight, and strong, and it was the colour of the metal that had attracted Marius to it. The black metal shone in the golden light, and the pommel was embedded with a large white gemstone in the shape of a star. As Marius drew the blade from its crimson scabbard, he was surprised to find the black metal continued down the blade.

    Marius recognized Dwarven carvings from one of Olaf''s books. They were situated in the centre of the blade, starting at the guard, and ending quarter of the way upon the blade. He found that everything was exactly right for him; the balance was perfect, as well as the weight at full reach. The blade flew through the air with ease, and Marius smiled as he sheathed the blade, and slung it over his back.

    Olaf nodded. "A fine choice you have made, lad. That is one of the Dwarven blades of Mjolik, the Dwarves ancestral home. They were forced to retreat from Luka and his sons during the God Wars when Vingthor failed; it is the blade of Nurlin, the smith of Mjolnir, Vingthor''s hammer."

    Marius felt the sword upon his back, and could imagine the weight of history upon it. His blade was crafted by the same hands that crafted a god''s weapon, the weapon that brought the mortal races out from an age of darkness. Marius pulled the sword from his back and reverently placed it on one of the weapon stands.

    Olaf frowned at Marius. "What are you doing, lad?"

    Marius shook his head. "I am not worthy of such a weapon, Olaf."

    Olaf''s frown deepened as he picked up the sword and handed it back to Marius. "Marius," he said soflty. "This blade has seen and done many great things. A sword''s life is not meant for treasure rooms and trophies; it is meant for battle and glory. This blade has waited for you for almost three thousand years, and now you have finally arrived. Take this blade, and strike down the Eldar that took away your home and family. You are worthy, Marius. I know this to be true."

    Marius took the sword with both awe and fear. "Thank you, Olaf."

    Olaf nodded his head, then gave a smile. "Now let¡¯s go and get something to eat."

    Marius followed Olaf up the stairs into the great hall. A strange smell immediately caught his nostrils, and Marius looked across the hall to see the fire blazing in its hearth. Olaf''s tattoos subtly glowed in the gloomy light, and he gave Marius a roguish wink.

    "I thought that since you have finished your first phase of training, we could celebrate."

    They made their way into the eating hall, and Marius smiled to himself when he saw a fat piglet twirling on a spit in the middle of the room.

    "It won''t be ready for another hour yet, so let¡¯s have a drink."

    Marius looked over to where Olaf was standing, and saw three large kegs pushed up against the stone wall. He felt his smile widen.

    ...

    Alun wound his way down to the base of the Smithing district, curious to see the master smiths at work. Although the air was thicker down here, the countless hammering noises were lessened considerably due to the master smith''s honed method. Alun walked past the various master forges, and ogled at the beauty that resided within. Axes, swords, and other strange and exotic weapons littered the outsides and insides of each forge. Some built armour that glistened and flickered in the magma''s light; others crafted precise instruments for inventors, or for measurement. Alun walked past it all, stopping frequently. Sometimes asking a red faced Dwarf what they were making, other times trying to translate the explanatory runes himself.

    Finally, Alun found himself at the very base of the Smithing district, and in turn, the base of Doflhiem. The streets down here were almost empty. Apart from the various elite of the city, the forges around here had such high prices that one purchase could keep the forge open for a decade. Masterpieces littered the streets, and Alun looked up at the city, almost fainting at the size of it.

    The prison high above was a speck now, no bigger than his thumb, and the tiered levels opened out, and lit up the vast walls of Doflhiem Canyon. Alun looked down and felt dizzy as he stumbled through the narrowing streets of the master''s tier.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    Finally, he stumbled out onto the last street before everything turned into lava. The street was empty; only rock and ash littered the sidewalks, and the buildings were left behind on the last block. A single street led straight to the lip of the lava river, and ended into what seemed to be a stone pier. Alun walked to this pier and winced from the heat. He looked up and down the river, and was surprised to see an island sat in the middle of the flaming river, with what looked like a forge puffing away.

    Alun walked up the bank, curious to see who owned this forge. He noticed a small pinnacle further up, and feeling adventurous, Alun headed to the pinnacle''s point, and tried to gauge the distance. The lava below sizzled and puffed, but the river seemed narrower here. Alun plucked up his courage; he remembered as a boy exploring the Black Forest with his brother. He remembered jumping over streams, and crossing the river that ran past Stonehill.

    This is what he focused on as he looked down. Alun was fixed on seeing as much as Doflhiem as he could, and this workshop was something he could see. He took a few steps back, then gave a running jump. Alun immediately realized what an idiot he had become; just because he had survived getting eaten by wargs, did not mean he could jump a lava filled river, especially when he was wearing heavy, metal-clad boots.

    Alun crashed onto the rocky shore of the island, and winced as he felt his shoulder collide with the rocks. Thankful for his leather jacket, Alun felt his shoulder for any damage. Slight bruising made him retract his hand, but he found no serious damage.

    He looked around, and found the forge puffing away nearby. Alun stood up and made his way over to the front door. The heavy beating of a hammer could be heard from within, slow and methodical. No weapons lined the outside of the forge as they did in the master''s tier¨C no works of any kind could be seen. Alun knocked; there was a pause within the rhythm, then a large bang sounded as vibrations shook the floor. The thunderous sound of footfalls came closer.

    The door swung open to reveal a massive mountain of a man. Black hair burst from his chest, and a wild black beard hung about his face. His hair ran wildly down his back in a thick knotted mane. A vast golden belt hung around his waist and covered half of his muscular stomach. Red tattoos ran across his skin, and seemed to pulse and glow with each rise and fall from the giant''s massive chest.

    Alun stood in front of the towering giant, feeling small and insignificant. He looked up into its face and stared. The giant''s face was covered with scars; left eye had been sewn together, and a jagged scar ran through it. The glowing red tattoos circled the giant''s features, and seemed to be runes of some description.

    Then the giant spoke, a thick rumbling voice echoing out into the black, burning surroundings. "What are you doing here, boy?"

    Alun blinked rapidly, taken aback by the direct question. "Um...look, I¡¯m-I¡¯m sorry, I just¨C¡±

    The giant frowned. "Just what?"

    Alun''s blinking continued, much to his frustration. "Sorry, I... I wanted to see what was here, I was curious."

    The giant gave a smile that chilled Alun to his bones. "Have you ever heard the saying ¡®curiosity killed the cat¡¯?"

    Alun''s faced dropped, and the giant burst into laughter, then offered a massive, calloused hand. "Calm, lad, don''t fret. I¡¯m only joking. My name is Huldain. Come in."

    Alun stepped over Huldain''s threshold, and looked into the dark forge. Only a few weapons littered the interior, and something was unusual about these weapons too. The metal was white, not silver or painted white, but from what Alun could see the actual metal was white. And not only white ¨C gold veins trickled through the metal, lacing over sword and axe blades.

    In the corner, a great axe differed from anything else in the workshop. The size was immense, and it matched Huldain in every aspect. Red runes identical to the ones on Huldain''s skin ran along its shaft, and curved along the axe''s head. Gold covered the shaft and ran right to the axe blade''s edge; it seemed to glitter on its own accord.

    Huldain fell into a massive chair next to this axe, and indicated to a stool close by. Alun pulled it closer, and continued to look around the forge.

    An anvil sat close by, made from the same metal as his creations. This anvil was massive, and the golden veins that coursed over its surface sparkled in the flame of the forge. His hammer was of equal proportions, and was also white and golden. Gold chains wrapped around the handle, and cracks splintered the floor around it, explaining what the thunderous bang had been before Huldain had walked to his door.

    The forge itself seemed to be super-heated. Wavy lines flickered above the orange and bluing flames, and strange lumps of ore littered the benches around it. Alun looked back at Huldain who sat in his seat watching Alun with an amused look.

    "So, lad, what is your name?" Huldain enquired.

    Alun''s eyes still wandered around the forge as he answered. "My name is Alun. Alun Black, of Stonehill."

    Huldain''s eye widened at the mention of Stonehill. "So you are the one Orei rescued. Seems you have a habit of getting into strife, don''t you?"

    Alun gave a sheepish smile, then frowned. "You know Orei?"

    Huldain smiled at the name. "Aye, I know Orei. Taught her a thing or two about ranging as well, although I haven''t been out in while. She¡¯s a good lass."

    Alun nodded in agreement to Orei''s good name. "So, Huldain?" He asked. "Tell me about this strange metal."

    Huldain cocked his head at the question, and gave a ragged smile. "It¡¯s a special type of ore I use, found by Nurlin when he forged Mjolnir. It needs to be super-heated, that''s why I forge here. Nowhere else will ever be this hot, apart from an ancient dragon''s maw¨C which is what Nurlin used back in the day."

    Alun''s head began to swim. He knew a little about the heretic gods, but Huldain was talking about dragons and Dwarves building god weapons. Huldain''s smile widened at Alun''s confusion, and he gestured to a makeshift kitchen.

    "Why don''t I make some tea? After what I¡¯m about tell you, you''ll need it."

    Alun''s confusion grew while Huldain made tea. Then he sat down, and began to recount the history of the heretic gods and the Eldar War.

 Chapter 9:

    Marius peeled his sweaty face from the pillow, and felt tears stream into his eyes as the morning light burst in through the window. The shrill chorus of the Vakringuardian song birds pushed Marius''s hazy mind into a bad mood. He rolled from his bed, and ripped off the covers. Leaving them behind, he stumbled across his room to a small wash basin, and began pumping fresh water via a pump built into his wall. Water gushed into the basin, filling it to the brim. Once, full, Marius doused his whole head, feeling the icy chill smash into his sore head, and dislodge some of the sludginess from the celebrations the night before.

    Now, in an almost functioning state, Marius hunted around his messy room for his boots and tunic. Pulling them on, he reached for his swords which leaned against his bed, oiled and ready for use. He strapped his steel long sword to his side, and Nurlin''s black blade to his back.  Ready to start the day, he headed out of his room and down the corridor outside.

    Marius could hear Olaf''s feet on the stairs before he entered the great hall. The steady thump of his boots seemed weighted, and Marius smiled to himself, thinking about how bad Olaf''s hangover would be in comparison to his own. He entered the hall, and made his way down the stairs. Feeling a thump as each of his own feet landed on each step, Olaf reached the landing before him, fully dressed in his overcoat, pauldron, and glistening blade upon his back.

    Marius frowned at the slight change in routine. Olaf looked up at Marius, and smiled at the evident hangover.

    "Good morning, Marius. How are you holding up?"

    Marius managed to grumble a response, not trusting himself with fully formed words yet. Olaf''s smile widened, and in a slightly louder voice which caused Marius to cringe, said, "I was thinking of grabbing some supplies today, and wondered if you would join me? I¡¯m only heading to a small town, but I was thinking it might be a good chance for you to meet the locals. After all, you have been cooped up in here with me for the past few weeks."

    Marius''s hangover was instantly forgotten as the thought of Vakringuardian barbarians came to mind. Although Olaf had stamped out a lot of Marius''s Alturine bias towards the neighbouring nation, he had still been brought up to fear the Vakringuardian raiders.

    Marius''s smile was all Olaf needed as confirmation.

    "Good! Right now lad, you''ll need something a bit warmer than your tunic if we''re going to be walking the Vakringuardian planes. I found this coat in one of the old parts of the castle, and thought it might fit you."

    Marius took the coat and tried it on. The sleeves rolled past his hands and the tails dragged on the floor, but it was very warm. Olaf frowned at the oversized coat, and placed a hand on Marius''s shoulder. Instantly, the coat shrank into shape, and Marius felt it fit perfectly around him. Olaf smiled down at his handy work, and before Marius could thank him he was headed down the stone steps of the landing, and across the great hall towards the front doors. He looked over his shoulder at Marius, who still stood on the landing in amazement of yet another gift.

    "Are you coming, lad?"

    Marius hurried after Olaf, buckling his black blade to his back and followed his teacher out into the Vakringuardian Kingdoms. During his time in Olaf''s castle, Marius had never thought about the outside landscape that surrounded him. Although he walked down the open corridor that displayed the Mother-locke River, he had always looked at it as a painting, not a view. Now Marius was following Olaf down a winding path that led from the castle. The path was on a high ridge, and acted as a defence for the castle, allowing only single file up and down.

    Olaf''s castle was situated on one of the last mountains of the northern border. It had once been a capital for a kingdom, and had protected its people against war and famine. Now, it acted as Olaf''s headquarters, and either way, was a massive structure. Marius looked back at it now and marvelled at its immense size. It was the biggest thing he had ever seen ¨C even the ruin at Stonehill, which shared the same past as Olaf''s castle, was not as big.

    The arena was the first thing that could be noticed. It wrapped around the mountain with a large domed roof, and Marius could make out the west wing where he slept, and saw the open corridor with its pillars which now looked like small matchsticks. Below that, the trophy hallway that led to the arena seemed small, and Marius could hardly believe that it was the same building.

    He turned back to the path, and took in the foreign surroundings. The wild plains of the Vakringuardian kingdoms spread out before him, and he could see the small town they were headed for, nestled on the northern banks of the fork in the Mother-locke River, puffing away peacefully. Large herds of giant furry cattle wandered the plains, and as Marius peered closer, he could see armoured men on horseback steering them north.

    Olaf looked out at them, then smiled back at Marius. "They are rounding up their herds for market, and are heading north to Vakringuard High Hall, the seat of the High King and capital of the Vakringuardian Kingdoms."

    Olaf continued to walk down the narrow ridge-way and indicated to the small town below. He cleared his voice, and Marius''s attention moved to the old man as he began to explain the lay of the land.

    "We are currently in the kingdom of Trystem, ruled by the Jarl of Trystem, who lives in the town we are headed. If you follow Alturine¡¯s northern border mountains to the west, you will find the kingdom of Rutchnar, surrounded by a circle of mountains which has the capital city of Reain. To the north-west above Rutchnar, lies Snowhiem, originally a Dwarfish kingdom, but bought by human merchants, hence the Dwarven name; its capital city is Noflem. To the north-east, further than Trystem and east of Vakringuard High Hall, lies the Eldar kingdom of Lornea, which I had previously thought was unoccupied. Further north-east is the abandoned Dwarven kingdom of Nordlhiem, and to the east of that, its sister kingdom Ironhiem, both of which are ruled by Doflhiem, which is to the south of us right now. To the east of Trystem and Lornea lies Runton, and its sister kingdom Laykton, each of which is governed by a separate brother of the same line."This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    Marius looked around him as he walked, trying to lay out a mental map with all of the information he had been given. Olaf looked back at Marius, and saw his confused face.

    "What¡¯s the matter, lad?"

    Marius looked back at Olaf. "It¡¯s nothing, I¡¯m just trying to map it all out in my head."

    Olaf nodded. "Well, we can grab a map from Trystem today if that helps you."

    Marius agreed to this, and allowed his mind map to slip away, promising himself that it would be easier to see it on paper. They drew closer towards the town, and Marius saw a large wooden bridge that spanned over the Mother-locke. A stone hut leant against the bridge, and two men stood outside, guarding the way across.

    These men were dressed in black, winged helmets, black painted chain-mail, and had red tunics underneath. They wielded spears, and round wooden shields, also decorated red and black. The shields themselves had a simple design painted across the face: three thick, black lines that met up in the middle to symbolize, Marius guessed, the split in the Mother-locke River.

    Olaf walked past the guards without looking at them, and Marius followed, staring as they stared back. When they were out of earshot, Olaf slowed down to walk beside Marius.

    He looked down and said, "They were Trystem guards, dressed in the red and black of the Vakringuardian kingdoms, but had the three lined seal of their own independent kingdom. They were just the river guard ¨C the town guard are a lot more heavily armed and look for trouble, so try to leave your Alturine mentality behind, or you may get into strife."

    Marius was slightly insulted by this comment, but let it slide as they the stepped onto the northern bank of the Mother-locke, looking up at Trystem. From the ridge, Trystem had seemed to be small and on flat ground, but from the bank, Marius looked up at a grassy slope, with sharp wooden poles for extra fortification. The entrance was carved into this slope, and had large wooden gates fitted into a stone gateway. A gravel path led through this gate and into town. Guards stood around the entrance with swords and round shields, inspecting the people who came into the town, with an overzealous amount of force.

    Olaf started towards the gates with Marius by his side. Who began to be very aware of his two swords, and felt that he should go to some effort of concealing them. Before he had attempted to hide the long sword at his side, he felt the crunch of gravel beneath his feet, and as Marius looked up, he saw the gates of Trystem now towering above him. The guards looked at him suspiciously, but stood back to allow Olaf and himself passage into the town unhindered.

    Marius had expected mud and squalor but, Trystem seemed to rival Stonehill in appearance. Inside the wall, stone houses littered the frozen, packed earthen streets. Certain roads were delegated to carts, and others were left for people to walk, unhindered by heavy traffic. The town seemed well thought out, and the degree of craftsmanship that went into the stone and wooden buildings was magnificent. Great wooden halls stood, inlaid with gilt carvings, at the centre of the town. A small wall separated these halls from what seemed to be the merchant¡¯s quarters, both large and small. Finally, nearest to the wall, the peasants¡¯ dwellings, complete with lean-to sheds and animal shelters huddled closely to the great slope, afraid of the order they had been put into. However, for all its shining brilliance, Marius felt an overwhelming amount of dread as he and Olaf walked into Trystem.

    As he looked down the frosty, smoky streets, Marius was dismayed at the lack of people. The ones he could see were huddled in furs and looked mortally ill. They snivelled, coughed, and eyed Olaf and Marius with both curiosity and fear.

    Taverns littered the streets, and seemed to echo out in the eerie silence with the sounds of harsh laughter and crude conversation. The tinging bang of a hammer rang through the streets, as Olaf led Marius deeper into the town. The smoky atmosphere cleared slightly, and Marius saw to his amazement, a Dwarf hammering away at his anvil. He had black hair flecked with grey, and braided within the strands of his beard and hair, golden wire shimmered in the sunlight, matching his breastplate, which glinted with every hammer fall.

    He seemed to be crafting a sword, and was so bent in his work that he did not appear to notice that, peeking from their boarded windows, the Vakringuardian townspeople watched.  Olaf went over to the Dwarf, and knocked on one of the stone pillars that held up the roof over the forge. The Dwarf paused a moment in his beating of steel and looked up.

    The Dwarf''s face split into a smile, and he immediately quenched the developing blade into a nearby trough of water. "Olaf? Is that you my old friend? What are you doing here among the cursed and the damned? It normally takes the end of days to get you mobile! And who is your companion here?"

    Olaf smiled back, and shook the Dwarves hand. "Hello Durie, how are you? This is Marius, a student of mine."

    Olaf winked back at Marius, who was still looking at Durie in amazement.

    Durie looked from Olaf to Marius with a bemused, almost knowing look on his face. By now, a few more eyes peered out from their hide-holes, and Marius could hear, from out of the shadows, Olaf''s name being muttered in awe. Durie looked around darkly at the whisperers, and indicated to a house built onto the forge. The three of them retreated, and found themselves inside a small wooden home.

    A fire crackled in the centre sending a plume of smoke upwards, out from a hole in the eaves. The wooden furniture was carved into straight, angular shapes, and had strange runes and pictures upon them. Marius peered closely at the carvings, and tried to discern their meaning.

    "Dwarves prefer straight edges and ordered shapes to curved scroll work. I carved all of this myself." Durie announced.

    Marius looked up to see Durie gazing through the gloomy light at him. Olaf sat in the corner, attempting to light his pipe, now content to be away from the strange streets of Trystem.

    "I am the first Dwarf you have seen, am I not?" Durie asked.

    Marius nodded.

    Durie flashed him a large grin, then with a sweeping arm said, "Well then, let me not give you a bad impression on my race. Please ¨C sit, relax, talk with me a while. I know Olaf here is fond of talking."

    Durie''s eyes sparkled as he glanced over at Olaf, and Olaf''s eyebrows rose as his face broke into a smile.

 Chapter 10:

    Alun looked down into his empty cup. and tried to process all of the information he had just received. The heretic gods, the Eldar Wars, and from what Huldain was saying, it may all be linked to the destruction of Stonehill. Shivers crept up his spine as he remembered the mutant wolf-people who had attacked himself and Luther. He looked over at Huldain, who sat in his chair watching Alun take everything in. Suddenly, a knock at the door caused Alun to jump off from his stool and let it fall onto the ground, creating a loud bang which echoed around the forge.

    Huldain''s eyebrows rose for a moment, then in his deep booming voice he said, "Come in Orei, its open."

    The door opened to show the red haired Dwarfess. "I thought I might find you here. When you didn''t turn up to the pub I thought to myself, I bet he''s at old Huldain''s receiving life lessons and whatnot."

    Huldain smiled, then looked at Alun. "Away you go, lad. Have some fun, but do not hesitate to come back if you feel your curiosity spike again. I might be able to teach you how to control it."

    Orei and Alun made their way out of Huldain''s forge and onto the black smouldering island beyond.

    Orei turned to Alun. "How exactly did you get here in the first place? The bridge was up; I had to pull it down to get across."

    Alun stopped for a moment and looked around for a bridge. Just a little further up the bank than the pinnacle he jumped from, a lever mechanized bridge lay over the river of lava. Alun pointed shame faced at the pinnacle, and Orei stared in amazement.

    "You jumped? You jumped across that gap? Off of that point?"

    Alun nodded and Orei burst into laughter. "You are one crazy bastard, my friend. You wait until the lads hear about this."

    Together, they made their way over the bridge, through the Smithing quarter, and up the lifts towards the military quarter. Orei was still smiling about Alun''s jump as they entered the pub Alun had passed sporting the singing Dwarves. In his absence with Huldain, the pub had erupted. Evidently at this time, most guards were off duty, and the singing before was nothing compared to the ruckus that had spilled onto the streets now; some hung from the upstairs windows calling out to their fellow workmates.

    Inside was chaos. Some Dwarves hurled axes at painted targets on the stone walls, while others danced on tables, singing along to the band, which from what Alun could tell consisted of half the room. A beardless Dwarf offered him a beer on a tray, and Alun had to look twice to compare her to Orei as a Dwarfess. As he took the beer, the tray was knocked from the Dwarf woman''s hand, and sent splintering across the room. In turn, the lass span around and laid into the culprit who had knocked it over.

    Orei looked up at Alun with a massive smile, and gave him the thumbs up as a chair flew overhead. Alun began to feel out of his depth, but as he drank the strange honey brewed mead of the Dwarves, he felt himself become as rowdy as the best of them. More chairs developed metaphorical wings as they smashed into the stone walls and were transformed into splintered fire wood. Mugs, bottles, and the occasional Dwarf also flew overhead, which was quite a feat considering the density of Dwarves. Alun found himself performing an awkward shuffling jig on a table next to Orei, who was apparently quite good at dancing.

    The longer the night raged on, the more chaotic the inhabitants became. Upon entrance, Alun had wondered why the place had not thought to add glass to their windows, but now as Dwarf after Dwarf, and occasionally Alun, flew through the open holes in the walls and out into the street, it all made sense. The third or fourth time Alun found himself sailing through the windows, he realized he had probably had a few too many. Orei shortly followed, and crash landed across the street, destroying a number of flower pots in the process, and sending daisies sprawling in different directions.

    Alun lay in the gutter panting. Staggering to his feet, he tried to pull Orei up, and found the weight too overbearing. He collapsed next to the Dwarfess, smashing a few more flower pots on the way down. Alun''s head lolled in Orei''s direction as he tried to communicate. His mouth had decided not to work as it flapped open and closed like a fish, allowing jumbled grunts to fall out, and his hands spasmed in the vague direction of his room, hoping that this would put the point across. Orei looked at Alun and burst into a fit of uncontrollable giggles. She rocked from side to side as the strange drunken fit took over, tears streaming down her face.

    Alun, who could almost feel himself sobering up, decided to leave Orei to her mirth, and pulled his wobbling, spasmodic body into a vertical position. The street around him swayed and distorted, and on more than one occasion, Alun swore he was at sea, although he had never sailed or stepped on a boat in his life. He stumbled and tripped his way in his room''s general direction, hoping that he was going the right way as he fell into alleyways and stumbled into main streets.

    It was starting to dawn on Alun that perhaps, maybe he was not in the right place after all, when suddenly a very tall, rusty haired man walked down the other side of the alleyway he was in. The man''s hair fell just beneath his shoulder blades and flicked out at the back. A small, scraggly beard traced around his chin and lips, giving the man a roguish demeanour. However, the black clothes he wore exuded richness. A strange golden contraption was strapped to his side, and seemed to twinkle and dance in the gloomy light of the alley.Stolen story; please report.

    Alun clumsily looked into the eyes of the strange man with only one question on his mind. "You wouldn''t happen to know where my bed would be, would you, old chap?"

    The man seemed to take a moment then he pointed in the guard''s quarters direction. Alun tipped an imaginary hat and then made his way to bed. Although he could not put his finger on it, Alun felt there was something very strange about that man.

    Alun woke up to screaming, and felt his head pound and the room pulse as he jumped from his bed, still fully clothed from the night before. Daylight trickled in through strategically placed holes within the mountains above Doflhiem, stinging Alun''s eyes as he pulled the curtains to closed. The screaming continued and suddenly bells chimed from far off.

    Alun wrenched open his door onto the hallway to see hung-over guards piling out from their rooms. Orei appeared, bobbing in the river of armed Dwarves. She crashed into Alun''s door frame with a grunt, and looked up with large bags beneath her eyes.

    "A prisoner has escaped the Hanging Block! Luther started screaming before, going on about some weird thing with red eyes. I came and got you to shut him up."

    Alun''s mind had stopped listening at ¡®red eyes¡¯. The man, the night before ¨C it all came back to him in a fuzzy daze. He now realized why the man was so strange: it was those eyes, those crimson eyes.

    Orei pulled Alun along the bustling hallway towards Luther''s room. The door opened to show Luther, curled up in a ball with his hands over his head, under his desk, screaming. Alun rushed over to the demented man. He grabbed the screaming Luther by the arm and hauled him onto the bed.

    "Luther? Luther Quail? Can you hear me mate? It''s me, Alun. It¡¯s alright mate, calm down, calm down."

    Luther''s screams turned into whimpers as he lay on the bed in his tattered clothes.

    Alun sat on the bed next to him, and Orei pulled up a chair. Alun patted Luther on the shoulder, and tried to comfort him as best he could. Luther''s whimpers slowly died out, and after what seemed like hours, he uncurled himself and sat up next to Alun. Orei stayed silent, scared of what would happen if she spoke.

    Luther looked over at him and pulled a guilty face. "Hello, Orei," he said in a broken voice.

    Orei dipped her head in acknowledgment.

    "I never thanked you for saving mine and Alun''s life in Stonehill." Orei smiled at Luther.

    "That¡¯s alright lad. You had a pretty traumatic time, and I think you''re just getting over it."

    Luther nodded, then looked to Alun. "Thank you for the visits, Alun. I know I did not always respond, but it meant a lot to me,"

    Alun patted Luther on the shoulder again. "That¡¯s alright, mate. I''m here for you."

    Luther nodded at this, and then looked down at his clothes. "I was wondering, Orei, did you have a spare set of clothes I could buy?"

    Orei''s eyebrows rose at the question. "Not to buy lad, but I have got some to give to you."

    Luther blinked at the offer, then gave a weak smile. "Thank you, Orei. You are very kind."

    Orei gave a snort and waved her hand. "It¡¯s our custom for guests to be clothed, fed, and boarded."

    Orei walked over to a cupboard built into the wall, and pulled out the same type of clothing Alun wore. She handed the clothes over to Luther, and indicated for Alun to stand up.

    "We¡¯ll leave you to get changed now, lad. Give us a yell if you need anything, ok?"

    Luther nodded and weakly smiled at them as Alun and Orei left.

    Bells still chimed around them as they made their way out of the guards¡¯ sleeping quarters, and across to the same pub they had helped destroy the night before. A number of patrons still lay comatose over benches and across the floor. Orei left Alun at an empty table, and went over to the bar to order breakfast. Alun was starving, and the hangover still remained throbbing against his skull. Orei came back holding two mugs of steaming liquid, and shoved one in front of Alun. Alun looked into the steam and caught a whiff of the strongest, most potent smell he had ever experienced. The creamy liquid swirled on its own accord, and disgusted, Alun looked up at Orei, who was pinching her nose and about to down the putrid potion.

    "What is this, Orei?¡± Alun grumbled. ¡°It smells awful."

    Orei paused and un-pinched her nose. "Trust me when I tell you, Alun, you don''t want to know. It tastes worse, but can kick the hell out of any hangover. Now, down the hatch!"

    Pinching her nose again, Orei drank the whole lot, and then exhaled, gasping for breath. Alun followed her lead; he pinched his nose and scoffed the foul liquid. Slimy lumps coursed down his throat, and he was just starting to think it wasn''t the worst taste in the world when the aftertaste hit him like a locomotive. He gasped for air and spluttered about, desperately wishing he could cut out his tongue.

    From what he could tell, the same Dwarfess who had served him the mead the night before came out with their breakfast. It was what Orei called hog bacon, piled high on a platter served with mushrooms, a side of beef, and strange orange beans coated in a creamy orange sauce. It tasted amazing, and after the strange hangover cure Orei had given him, Alun felt like he could eat anything.

    They ate quickly, using chunks of bread to mop up the sauces, and when they were full and content, Orei pulled in closer and gave Alun a strange look.

    "I would have liked to have known what Luther was screaming on about, with the red eyes."

    Alun suddenly felt shivers creep down his spine. "Orei," he said, and Orei regarded him with another more inquisitive look. "I know what Luther saw. I saw it too when I stumbled home from the pub last night."

    Orei''s eyebrows rose in surprise, and impatiently she asked, "Well, what was it Alun? What did you see?"

    Alun quickly recounted what had happened in the alley, and Orei turned white. Alun looked at his friend in concern.

    "What is it, Orei?"

    Orei turned to the bar and yelled out to the waitress. "Hey, Berty! Two shots of Dragon Spit over here, pronto!"

    Berty came over, holding aloft her trusty tray with two small glasses containing steaming red liquid balanced on top. She placed them on the table, gave Orei a disapproving look, then walked away. Orei took up the glass, and slid the other over to Alun, who was bemused and curious by the whole process.

    Taking up his own, Alun waited for Orei to count down. On three, Alun drank and instantly knew why it was called Dragon Spit; it burned all the way down into the pit of his stomach, and seemed to eat him from the inside out. He gasped, and took a few moments to recover.

    He gave Orei a questioning look and asked, "What was all that about?"

    Orei was wrapping her hands over each other in her nervousness. "It¡¯s Myrian, Alun."

 Chapter 11:

    So Olaf, I''ll ask again. What are you doing out and about?"

    Olaf took a deep breath, and exhaled any remaining smoke that resided within his lungs. He readjusted himself and unstrapped his sword from his back and placed it beside him.

    Olaf regarded Durie for a moment, then said simply, "They are back, Durie."

    Such a cryptic statement drove Durie to scowl, and curse under his breath.

    "Who, Olaf? Who are back?"

    Marius, who was used to Olaf''s mannerisms, simply sat and waited for the explanation. Olaf looked across at Marius who sat patiently, and smiled at his student.

    He looked back at Durie and explained. "The Eldar, Durie. They are back¨C or indeed, they may have never left. Either way, they are upon the kingdoms of men and are secretly butchering towns in Alturine. Marius experienced a corrupted Eldar first hand, and said there are at least three more with it. You yourself should have come to that conclusion just by looking at this town. It was partly the reason I went ranging around the Black Forest in the first place."

    Durie took in the news. He sat on his chair beside the fire blinking for a moment, looking from Olaf to Marius trying to fit together the puzzle.

    "But you killed them. You destroyed them; you took away their immortality and left them to die. They are no more and this is our time of peace."

    Olaf nodded. "Aye, that is what we all thought. But it would seem the most powerful still remain. Reanimating the dead into Nosaferatu is no small party trick."

    Durie''s eyebrows rose and then fell. "Well, Olaf, it seems I''m right; you truly do only come out to play when the world is ending!"

    Olaf sighed and turned to Marius. "Marius, lad, could you wait in the pub down the street for me? I might be a while, but get whatever you want. Explore Trystem if you wish ¨C just keep out of trouble, and meet me in that pub."

    With that, Olaf threw a coin purse over to Marius, and waved his hand at the door which, with a creaking squeal borne from decades of rusted hinges, opened. Marius got up and walked out from Durie''s house, but curiosity got the better of him, and as the door closed, Marius went around the back of the house and peered in through a gap in a window.

    Olaf recounting to Durie in on the tale that had unfolded in Stonehill. Durie sat in horror and amazement. When Olaf had finished, Durie rubbed his face with his hands, got up, and walked over to a cabinet by the door. He pulled out a bottle, and filled two glasses with the contents, passing one to Olaf as he raised his own, and drank. Marius watched Olaf do the same, then listened as the conversation changed.

    Durie began talking about Doflhiem, and a person called Huldain. "I''m tellin'' you, Olaf we ¨C no, you ¨C need to talk with my brother and Huldain. Together, you might be able to nip it in the bud before it gets further out of hand. I remember Tavium telling me stories of what happened last time, when the corruption started? All those lives..."

    Durie shook his head at the thought, Marius followed the conversation with growing interest. From what Durie was saying, Olaf had fought in the Eldar wars, which meant that the old hero had to be centuries old. Marius knew that Dwarves had long lives, but he didn''t know how Olaf could live that long. Marius looked at Olaf through the gap in the window and took in the countless scars, the ancient features, and the hulking frame. His tattoos glowed in the gloomy light of Durie''s house, and his eyes twinkled beneath his prominent brow.

    The conversation continued on about possible ways to destroy the Eldar. Again, Durie suggested an answer.

    "You and Huldain could use magic to destroy this threat, just like what happened south of here when you challenged the Dragon knights."

    Olaf scowled and shook his head. "No, Durie. That was too dangerous and the cost was great; the ground is still scarred to this day. No one should wield that much power. Huldain and I swore we would never unleash so much destruction upon the land again. Besides, whether we like it or not, the corruption has already started. Look at this town: the strong are greedy. and the weak are ill. We are too late to nip it in the bud."

    Durie swore and threw back his drink. "Then what, Olaf? What do we do? Do we just sit in the shadows and contemplate our situation, or do we face the demons at our door, like we have always done? I''m telling you, man; go to Doflhiem, speak to my brother, the King, ask for aid, recruit Huldain to your cause, and unleash your own hell on these corrupted ancients!"

    Olaf nodded. "I was planning on making the trip soon anyway, I am just waiting for the lad to be ready first. Once Marius is ready I will set out for your homeland."

    Marius felt excitement bristle within him at the thought of going to Doflhiem.

    Durie continued to press his urgency. "Either way, Olaf, you need to go soon. The longer this is left, the more lives are lost and the more powerful these bastards will become!"

    Olaf sighed, allowing his great shoulders to sag. "I know, Durie, I just want to be ready for whatever comes next."

    Durie shrugged, got up, and took to pouring himself another drink. "You can never be too prepared, Olaf. I just hope you can be prepared enough for what comes along the horizon."You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    Marius left the window once he was confident the conversation had turned away from the Eldar and Doflhiem. Questions raced around his head as he walked past Durie''s forge and out into the street. Marius made his way towards the pub, and once he found it he decided to go and explore Trystem. The town was eerily silent, and Marius felt as though eyes watched him wherever he stepped. As he made his way through merchant''s circle, he realized that Durie was not the only Dwarf in Trystem. Other forges bore the same angled features as Durie''s did.

    Marius marvelled at the craftsmanship that littered the town, and felt mournful for the townsfolk. The smoke laden air drifted through the streets, and Marius felt the crunching of his boots against the frosted earth. His breath steamed up before him, and before long, he began to feel the effects of the cold creep into him. Marius felt himself become heavy, and his feet began to sting with the cold, so he headed back to the tavern Olaf had told him to wait at.

    A sign swung in the breeze above the door, displaying a painted picture of a black haired woman brushing her long hair; halfway down this painting, the woman''s hair turned into a wavy river. In gold peeling letters beneath the sign, scribed the name: Mother-locke Inn. Marius entered, and to his surprised heard the picking strings and hoarse tones of a bard singing old tunes and ballads in the corner. Shady customers stuck to their booths, and the sickly drunks hugged the bar. The stench of stale beer and smoke polluted the air, and Marius felt his boots stick to the greasy, dark, wooden floor.

    Marius made his way over to the bar, and ordered the house ale from a wiry, balding, half blind barkeep that seemed to fit in with his surroundings, right down to the grease. The barkeep mumbled and chattered to himself, leaving Marius to take his ale in silence, and do his best not to make eye contact with anyone as he made his way over to an unoccupied table.

    Occasional laughter broke out from groups and bounced over the bard''s songs. Marius leant closer to listen to the old songs, but strained as the laughter grew. Three guards sat, in full battle attire, drinking and waving around their swords in a jolly manner, which seemed to contradict the feeling of the whole establishment. They carried on and cheered as four more guards banged in through the front door. They drank excessively, and spoke in a bawdy and shameless manner.

    Marius began to feel very out of place, and wished that Olaf would show up at any moment. A louder bang caused Marius to look up, and then down at a bottle that skittered to a halt by his foot; the alcohol within poured out from the neck, and pooled around Marius''s chair.

    He looked back up as the scraping of a chair and thudded footsteps precluded the staggering, drunken arrival of one the guards at his table. The guard stood in front of Marius with his sword drawn, which he leant on for support as he looked down at his fallen bottle. Snickers came from the other guards as this one looked Marius up and down, taking in the swords and rich clothing.

    "I trust you have a permit for these, boy?" He gestured with his sword towards Marius''s own blades.

    Marius frowned. Unaccustomed to the laws of these lands, he did not have a leg to stand on, although he did know that Olaf would have warned him about anything like this.

    Deciding to go with the truth, Marius slapped on a peaceful smile and looked up at the guard. "Well, I am sorry, sir, I didn''t think I needed one."

    This statement seemed to delight the guard, as he looked at the sword on Marius''s back in hunger.

    He puffed out his chest and looked down his nose at Marius. "Well, I¡¯m sorry, lad," he said, "but you do. I¡¯m going to have to confiscate your swords and give you a hefty fine."

    Marius had remembered what Olaf had said about staying out of trouble, and wondered if refusing to give up his blades and money would lead to a peaceful solution ¨C he doubted it. Marius desperately wished Olaf would show up now, but in his absence, Marius decided upon which path he should take.

    Slowly pushing back his chair, he said, "I am sorry, sir, but unfortunately I am unable to give up my swords as they are very valuable and dear to me, and all of the money I hold does not belong to myself as it is actually my master''s."

    This caused the drunken guard to stare, dumbfounded at what he had just been told. After a while, his brain processed the meaning to be in the negative, and he pointed his sword at Marius. His fellow guards had stopped snickering by now, and stood up to surround Marius and force him to hand over his goods. Marius, having mixed feelings about what might happen next, stood up himself, and looked from one guard to the other. Bracing himself, Marius''s hand crept to the hilt of his long sword.

    The guard, who now clearly thought the odds were in his favour, gave a leering smile and said, "Right now, boy. Give us the purse and your blades, and you won''t get hurt, you hear me?"

    Marius once again weighed the odds of a peaceful solution, and not seeing one in the present moment, said, "No."

    The effect was quite strange. Olaf''s shadowy knights and rangers were a lot faster and harder to fight than actual people.

    Upon Marius''s response, the first guard yelled out, "Right then!" and swung at Marius, thinking that this would end the conversation. Marius at this point, seeing all of the tells this man gave before he went to strike, decided to reply.

    Drawing his long sword, Marius cut off the man''s hand, sending the sword and the attached hand flying through the air into a fellow guard, who was about to hold Marius back. The recently one handed guard collapsed to the ground, and huddled over his wound screaming, whilst the other fell back, gurgling blood from his mouth and whispering something about peaches. Marius spun around and looked at the other remaining guards who were staring at their fallen colleagues in horror. Marius flicked the blood from his blade, spraying the floor. This caught the other guards'' attention. They charged as one, screaming in hatred and anger at Marius, who was dismayed at this turn of events. He unsheathed Nurlin''s blade, and with one slice cut through swords, armour, and guards, leaving a pooling mess of blood in the centre of the tavern.

    At that point, Olaf walked into the tavern with Durie, and looked at the mess in surprise. Durie let out a long whistle, then walked over to the blood splattered bar keep. The other customers had decided to either leave or hide behind their tables the moment Marius had said no.

    Olaf walked over to where Marius was standing, ankle deep in blood. "What happened here?"

    Marius could tell that Olaf had not decided how to feel about this until he had the facts. Marius sheathed his blades and looked up at his mentor. "They wanted my swords and your money. When I said no, they attacked me."

    Olaf nodded slowly, then shrugged. "It would seem that they are corrupted. I have a feeling this is a side effect of the Eldar. It¡¯s alright, Marius. I wish this would not have happened, but some things cannot be helped."

    Durie came over with three mugs of ale. "It¡¯s such a shame, but I think you are right Olaf. I have observed the guards becoming rougher of late."

    With that, Olaf and Durie seemed to forget about the slain guards at their feet, and talk turned to supplies.

    "I''m thinking we may take a trip south, Marius, to Doflhiem. What do you think?"

    Marius had almost forgotten about Olaf and Durie''s conversation, and his thoughts turned towards the Dwarves'' capital now. He nodded, and felt, as he had before, excitement at the thought of going to see one of the underground kingdoms of the Dwarf king.

 Chapter 12:

    Orei sat shivering from the thought of Myrian as Alun watched.

    "Orei? Are you alright?" Alun asked.

    Orei blinked, looked up at Alun, shook herself, and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah. I¡¯m fine, fine."

    Alun frowned and looked into Orei''s eyes. "So, who is Myrian?"

    Orei let out a big discontented sigh, then glanced about her. Satisfied no one was listening, she leant over the table and said, "Myrian is old ¨C really old, as in before the Elf Wars old. Some here still remember him, like Huldain and some of the older Dwarves, but apart from that, Myrian outlasts us all. He fought on our side in the Elf Wars, but once we won, he went rogue. He disappeared for a while, but came back. Drunk on power he did whatever he pleased; he butchered towns and destroyed kingdoms, he tried to end your kingdom''s Inquisition, and almost won too. It took Huldain and another hero called Olaf to lock him up in The Hanging Block. Huldain himself made the chains in which Myrian was bound, but now he is free!"

    Alun now realized why Orei was so scared, and how much of a problem this truly was. Myrian sounded daunting, and Alun thanked the gods for the luck of never fighting such a person, then wondered what would happen now that Myrian was loose. Orei rubbed her hands together and massaged her aching head, thinking about what to do next.

    "I must report to the west gate. I imagine that they will need a ranger to go and find Olaf."

    Alun ran this through his head and thought about the risks involved. "I¡¯ll come with you."

    Orei looked at him. "What?"

    By now the idea was formed in Alun''s head. "I will come with you, Orei."

    Orei frowned at this and thought it over. "You need training for ranging, Alun."

    Alun gave Orei a smile. "You can teach me on the job, Orei. You already know I can outrun wargs with a man on my back, what else do I need?"

    Orei betrayed herself by letting out a smile. "alright. I¡¯ll have to convince Saurin though, and if the old man says no, then it¡¯s a no."

    Alun nodded, and the two of them got to their feet and made their way towards the lifts. Alun had rarely gone up in his stay in Doflhiem, but now as he got into the lift with Orei, he looked down as the Hanging Block prison slipped away beneath him. Above the Military Quarter, the palace of the Dwarven King passed by. Vast golden pillars and shining silver carvings glinted around them, until Alun and Orei reached what the Dwarves called the ground floor. The ground floor was a titanous hall which spanned over the entire ranges of the Mjolik Fjords, littered with small towns and hamlets for the various guards, rangers, and miners that worked in the outside world.

    Alun and Orei left the lifts and went over to one of the magnetic carriages that transported Dwarves along the vast levels of Doflhiem. They seemingly worked on magic by Alun''s eye, but Orei had explained the use of single magnets in the steel wheel housings and along the iron track, which had the same polarity, forcing the wheels to roll. Brakes clamped down upon the wheels to halt the carriage, and screws and pulleys were fitted into the driver''s seat in order to move the magnets on the wheels further from, or closer to the axles for speed change.

    Orei hopped into the driving seat of a west gate bound carriage, and helped Alun strap into the passenger seat. Unlike the lifts below and horse drawn carriages of Alturine, this carriage consisted of just four seats and the wheels, with wires and brakes all included. Orei pulled out some goggles from a bag built into her seat and gestured for Alun to follow suit. They adjusted the straps around their heads, and Orei pulled the carriage''s settings until they began to roll at an increasing speed out of the station.

    The wind whipped through Alun''s hair, and he now knew why he needed goggles. He looked over at Orei and burst into laughter, as the Dwarfess was clearly enjoying herself. The wind flew through hair making it stream out behind her, with her left hand was on the speed control lever; she wore a large smile across her face as she gave Alun the thumbs up. They turned on sharp angles causing Alun to veer wildly out of his seat, and if it had not been for the belts strapping him to his seat, Alun knew he would have been thrown out into the surrounding abyss. The pillars of the great ground floor halls flew past, and Alun felt dwarfed by the enormity of them. Occasional fires flared up, showing camp sites and barracks of guards, miners, and builders, all of which seemed to huddle in fear of the dark.

    Alun contemplated upon how strange it was to feel as if the surrounding landscape was wild and vast, when in fact it was all Dwarf-made. Thousands upon thousands of Dwarves and years were lost in the construction of Doflhiem, and looking into the distant landscape of the ground floor, Alun could see why.

    They finally pulled in to the west gate station, coursing with adrenaline. Alun felt as if his legs were floating, and Orei walked out with her wide smile still plastered across her face. Shaking out any excess delirium, they managed to calm down, and Orei went over to the west gate''s barracks to see Saurin. Guards were rushing past in panic, and Alun remembered Luther, in his room, on his own with all this commotion, and felt guilt hound him; he made a mental note to have someone go and check on his friend.

    They walked through a warren of tunnels until they came to Saurin''s office. As they entered, Alun was immediately aware of the massive hulking frame of Huldain sat in a two person, leather armchair. Saurin was sat at his desk with a bottle in his hand. Huldain seemed a little restless; he had his own bottle, and drank frequently until it was finished, then reached around the seat to grab another.

    Saurin smiled as they entered, and stood up. "Ah, Orei, good lass! I was just about to send someone to get you, but now you are here ¨C and with the lad from Stonehill, no less. What can I do for you Alun?"

    Alun looked at Saurin and decided to stay firm on his request to Orei. "I would like to go with Orei when she goes to get Olaf."This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    Saurin did not look surprised at the request, and instead looked over at Huldain. "What do you think, big son? Are you going to take them with you?"

    Huldain regarded Alun and Orei for a moment, then dipped his head in a quick nod. "Aye, I will take them."

    With that, Huldain stood up and instantly the room seemed to shrink around him, as if pulled by his vastness. He picked up his axe, and rested it on his shoulder as he strode over to the door.

    Just before he left, he turned to Orei and Alun and said, "I will meet you two by the gate in half an hour. Be there and ready by then."

    They nodded, and watched as Huldain closed the door behind him. They could still hear his footfalls down the hall as they turned to look at Saurin. The old Dwarf sat at his desk and watched both of them with an appraising eye.

    "Well, this will be an adventure for you both, even you Orei. I fear this will be something new, and I think that it will not be easy. But if you win this, I feel the rewards will be great. Look after yourselves, and don''t worry, Alun; I will look after Luther."

    Alun dipped his head, and thanked Saurin for everything he had done. Orei went to the door with Alun then turned back, nodded to her superior, and they left.

    Alun and Orei walked out from the west gate''s barracks, and Orei looked up at a small air vent in the roof.

    "Well, Alun, we won''t be able to stock up on supplies in time to meet Huldain, so we will need to grab some survival packs from the quarter master, and some gear for you."

    Orei led Alun to a shop front carved into the side of the mountain next to the great western gates of Doflhiem. A plump Dwarf sat on a wooden stool behind the counter. He seemed quite content with a pipe and a bottle of mead, but broke into a large smile when he saw Orei and Alun walking over.

    "Orei, my one, true love! I thought you had forsaken the ranger''s stores completely!"

    Orei smiled at the quartermaster, and shrugged. "Desperate times call for desperate measures, Bourin, my sweet. This is Alun by the way. He will be coming on my little expedition."

    Alun shook Bourin''s hand and gave a quick hello.

    "What can I do you for, friends?" Bourin asked.

    Orei calculated a few things in her head, then started listing off strange names in both the Dwarvish and common tongue.

    Bourin wrote each item down, and went into his stores to retrieve them. Finally, when he had grabbed two of everything, he gave a large toothy smile.

    "Let''s see we have: two proofed cloaks; two dehydrated supply packs that last a week, and more if rationed properly; six sulphur canisters ¨C that''s three each ¨C; and two hand held crossbows with bolts. I might be able to convince you to swap these with something new in a minute. And some ore weapons: one war axe for you Alun. I believe Orei has hers waiting for her at the gate. Also: four red flares in case of emergency; a fire kit; and last but not least, two roll mats for sleeping."

    Bourin looked up at the two of them, and smiled. "Now, the inventors have created a new projectile weapon that does not consist of a bow."

    Orei looked at Bourin with a strange expression. "Please don''t tell me, Bourin, that you want us to test a new weapon in the field? You know how dangerous that is."

    Bourin''s smile grew as he reached under the counter to pull up two hand held, metal machines. Alun stared at them, and remembered the strange golden thing attached to Myrian''s thigh.

    He immediately pulled Orei to the side. "Myrian has one of those things, Orei. He had it strapped too him when I saw him in the alley."

    Orei''s eyes widened, and she glanced over to the counter at the two strange inventions. She looked up at Bourin who was frowning slightly at being left out on whatever was going on.

    Orei went back to the counter and picked one up. "What do they do, Bourin? How do they work?"

    Bourin smiled again, glad to be included back into the mission. "They are what the inventors call firearms or guns, Orei. The gun you are holding includes a semi-automated revolving firing mechanism, which I aptly named a revolver. There are others, for longer range, like this."

    Bourin pulled out a longer firearm; this one needed two hands to hold it. "This is a bit different from the revolver. The inventors who made this found that the revolving motion pulled the weapon to one side when reloading, and over long distances this affected accuracy. So, they invented this clip. It holds the ammunition and feeds it into the bottom of the gun on a wire spring. The barrel, or firing stick, has curved grooves carved into the inside called rifling. This gives the projectile a spin, making the shot more accurate. Because of this rifling, I''ve called them rifles. The inventors have fitted a marked spyglass on top to give the user a view of their range. The rifle can hit anything accurately at just over half a mile."

    Orei handed the revolver to Alun and picked up the rifle. She ran her hands over the loading mechanism and felt the trigger on her finger. Orei fitted the stock into her shoulder and peered down the spyglass.

    Nodding, Orei looked up at Bourin. "We¡¯ll take them, Bourin. Give us the ammunition and cases and we''ll test them in the field for you."

    Bourin gave a smile, and handed over two cases full of gun ammunition and two belts fitted with holsters for both weapons. Alun felt the weight of the revolver in his hand. He aimed it at full arm¡¯s length, then took the holster and belt from Orei and strapped it to his waist. Orei strapped her belt over her back, and felt the fluidity of movement by removing and sheathing the rifle a few times, adjusting her chest plate for more comfort.

    Now happy, she and Alun packed their supplies, thanked Bourin, and made their way over to the western gate. A young Dwarf stood, holding Orei''s silver axes. Alun frowned when he saw them. So many Dwarves walked around Doflhiem with weapons that it was unusual to see a Dwarf without one. Weapons to Dwarves were a thing of station, and depending on how ornate your weapons were depended on how high your station was. Orei fondly took her axes, and thanked the young Dwarf who was holding them.

    For the first time, Alun actually looked at the axes of his friend. They were so intricate; the blade itself had carvings dancing across its edge, and everything about them seemed to glitter and shine.

    Orei looked up at Alun and smiled guiltily. "I suppose you are wondering why I don''t have my weapons near me in the city."

    Alun looked from Orei to the axe she was holding in her hand; the smaller of the two had been threaded through the loop at her side. Alun saw how guilty Orei was, and decided not to press his curiosities upon his friend; waving his suspicions away, Alun saw Orei relax. Alun was sure Orei would tell him about the axes and her role in Doflhiem, but right now, they were just two rangers about to go on a mission.

    Huldain came striding into view. A large cloak with a strange coat of arms fell about his shoulders and flared out behind him. He wore a large leather tunic tucked into his vast golden belt and kilt with a massive pair of boots with steel toes fixed with spikes. A travel pack was slung across his back next to his huge axe. He nodded to Alun and Orei, then strode up to the gate and called for it to be open. Saurin stood by and saluted Huldain as the doors opened, and together Alun, Orei and Huldain strode out into the Black Forest.

 Chapter 13:

    arius sat beside Durie and Olaf, trying to ignore the blood that lapped at his feet, and the whimpering guard whom Marius had removed a hand from. The barkeep of the Mother-locke Inn had piled all of the corpses out in his courtyard to await the grave diggers. The surviving guard had been helped into the kitchen and had his wound cauterized by the cook, who seemed quite adept with the procedure due to the fact that the guard was still breathing. The guard now sat in a booth in the corner of the pub, resting his stump in a bucket of snow and having his face constantly topped up with whiskey. The bard had come out from his hiding place and continued to play with a nervous twang to his voice, and Olaf, Durie, and Marius sat in the middle of it all, still drinking and discussing what to do next, and what route to take to Doflhiem.

    Durie took another swing of his ale and pulled out a map of the southern kingdoms. "Well, the way I see it, you have three ways to get into Doflhiem. You could take the trade route straight to Doflhiem from Trystem along the eastern fork of the Mother-locke into the eastern gate, or you could walk along the banks and pass through the corrupted section of the Black Forest and enter into the northern gate. Or, if you wanted to take the long way around, you could cross the Mjolik Fjords into Alturine and enter via the western gate. Whichever way you take would get you in."

    Olaf looked at the map and nodded. "Aye, I think they are the best options, but I think the best of all would be to cross the mountains. It may be the hardest, but if Doflhiem has had any rangers in the area, it wouldn''t take long for old Saurin to send one my way to make sure I know about Stonehill, Plus, it would be good training for you, Marius."

    Marius looked at the route and nodded. It would take them past the ruins of Stonehill, and memories flooded back to him from that night. It had been over a month ago, but it felt like a life time, and Marius had become quite proficient at dismissing the painful thoughts.

    Finally, ready, Olaf and Marius stood up and bid farewell to Durie. They had a list of what they were going to need for their journey, and the first on that list was transport, which meant horses. As they left the Mother-locke Inn, Marius thought about the type of horse that would be able to hold Olaf.

    His thoughts dropped dead as the sun shone on the drawn swords of the town guard. They had surrounded the bar and were hungry to see Marius''s blood. At least a hundred of them stood in formation with a mounted man in command. He wore rich clothes and had on his head a golden band to display his position as Jarl. A gilded sword hung in his hand, and a furrowed frown plagued his unshaven face. His breath came out before him in a mist, and his steed''s hooves stamped impatiently upon the frozen packed earth of the street.

    His voice rang out and bounced against the surrounding walls. "Olaf and companion: surrender your arms now or perish."

    The Jarl seemed confident of his position, and understandably so; Olaf and Marius were surrounded.

    A snivelling, shuffling crowd gathered behind the guards to see the attraction that was unfolding. Olaf stood up to his full height, and Marius felt satisfaction bloom within him as he saw a few guards look nervously at Olaf''s massive figure.

    He stretched his arms above his head and then lazily looked up at the Jarl. "Ah, Tiberius, how are you?"

    This took the Jarl off guard; he was used to being feared and respected, not casually engaged in a conversation ¨C and in front of his entire garrison no less. The Jarl of Trystem tried in vain to keep control of the situation, but with Olaf standing in front of him, calm and collected, he knew he would have to either release or attempt to execute the old hero and his companion. Olaf knew these two options, and hoped for release; he did not want to massacre a whole garrison and their leader in front of a crowd. On the other hand, if the corrupting influence of the Eldar was here as he suspected, these men would only cause misery and weaken this town. It was a hard decision and Olaf prayed he did not have to make it.

    The Jarl was still trying to make his own decision, and in a moment of selfish and egotistic pride, he chose wrong. Pointing his sword at Olaf, he called out his sentence.

    "Olaf and companion, it is my duty as Jarl Tiberius Reanik the first of Trystem, to sentence you to death by sword for the crime of murder, and aiding murder."

    Olaf nodded as if in agreement, then looked hard at the Jarl. "You can try, Tiberius, but you and your men will fail."

    Olaf unsheathed his sword just as Marius unsheathed his; together they stood against a hundred guards. The onlookers had fled to safety and peeked out at the showdown from their shuttered windows and overturned tables. Both blades twinkled in the cold sunlight against the armoured and shielded men. Confidence exuded from Marius and Olaf, and seemed to have the opposite effect upon the guards. Leaves flew amongst them and acted as an intermission between the two forces.

    Suddenly, the Jarl called out and the guards charged. Olaf immediately flew into action, leaving Marius to defend against the encroaching threat. Olaf''s blade flew through the air, and didn''t seem to slow as it tore through guards, armour, blades, and shields. Marius watched in awe as within three sword strokes, half of the garrison fell into screams. Marius sliced with Nurlin''s blade. The effect was not the same as Olaf''s, but it still cut down all who opposed him. One more slice from Olaf''s glittering blade was enough to send the guards into retreat.

    The Jarl turned to run, but was grabbed at the scruff of his neck by Olaf, leaving his horse to charge off, and the Jarl to hang in Olaf''s hand. The Jarl''s sword clattered to the ground, leaving him to flail helplessly against his fate. Marius could see Olaf''s mind at work, and he watched as Olaf¡¯s tattoos began to glow. The Jarl had stopped flailing and hung limply. Marius saw fear in his eyes, and began to think that maybe he was not a corrupt monster after all. That was until Olaf threw him to the floor, and in a large booming voice that echoed around the whole town, and magically fixed into the heads of every person within Trystem, he bellowed, "Jarl Tiberius Reanik of Trystem, you are charged for the crimes against your people, including cavorting and bargaining with the known enemy of man, The Eldar, as well as the corruption and abuse of the power that you hold. How do you plead?"If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    The Jarl knelt in the dirt, and Marius felt his mind spin at the situation they were in. So far, Marius had established that the people of Trystem were cursed. He did not know why, but Olaf had clearly made a connection with this event and the Eldar who were responsible for the massacre at Stonehill. From what Olaf was saying, the Jarl had bargained with the Eldar for something, and now as a result his people suffered and his guards became greedy.

    The Jarl panted in his fear. Guilt seemed to wrap around him as he appeared a broken man before his people, knelt in front of Olaf, the ancient hero of these lands, and the only power great enough to take away the life of a Jarl. The Jarl began to mutter and stammer, pleading for his life. He tried professing his ignorance, but by now the entire town of Trystem had filled the streets. From the rich families out of their gilded halls, to the mud splattered peasants with their fear filled eyes, all of them came to see their tyrant''s end. Olaf saw this, and after allowing the Jarl to lie through his teeth Olaf turned to the people.

    "People of Trystem, I have tried your ruler, Jarl Tiberius Reanik of Trystem, for crimes against you all. After looking into his mind, I have found his discussions with an unnatural creature ¨C a creature that delights in the pain of mortals. He sold you all in the pursuit of his own wealth, and as such, I plan to execute this false lord and seek a council of your most highly regarded citizens to elect a new ruler. If anyone disagrees with me, speak now and know you shall not be harmed."

    Not a single soul stepped forward, and after what seemed like an age, Olaf nodded in acceptance of what he must do. It struck Marius at this point that this had been the whole reason Olaf had come here. Olaf did not need supplies to venture out of his castle, he did not need to come to Trystem at all, but from Marius''s limited knowledge of Olaf, he knew that this was a lesson, his final test.

    The Jarl''s face went pale as Olaf turned to him, and raised his sword. A scream cried out into the street, but was cut short as Olaf''s glittering blade flew through the air. The Jarl''s head struck the ground with a sickening thump, and blood pooled at Olaf''s feet. Some of the crowd gasped, whilst others stood with a stoic expression watching their Jarl''s headless body slump onto the street. Olaf turned to the people of Trystem, and Marius could see, with the Jarl''s death, their sickness and fever fall away. The crowd as a whole stood up straighter and looked about them in wonder as their curse lifted. Laughter trickled out from the youngsters and leaked through the crowd until the whole town was cheering and dancing in delight. Olaf nodded once with approval of his work. and then, sheathing his sword, made his way back into the Mother-locke Inn. Marius stood for a moment, and thought of the events that had just unfolded before following Olaf into the Inn.

    Durie still sat at the table Marius and Olaf had left before the showdown with the Jarl and his men. He looked up from his mug and cocked his head, listening to the cheers outside.

    His eyes settled on Olaf and his lips flicked up into a smile. "Well, it would seem that your plan has worked. Chopping the head off the snake seems to have pushed Trystem into full bloom again."

    Olaf collapsed into a chair next to Durie, and the barkeep rushed over to him with a smile and planted a keg next to Olaf.

    "On the house, sir" The barkeep said, and Olaf thanked him, then poured two mugs of ale and passed one to Marius. Olaf drank heavily, then slammed his mug on the table.

    "As I said before Durie, for a tree to flourish, one must cut off the rotting limbs!" He grinned, a hint of sadness at the deed still in his eye.

    Durie''s smile grew and his head bowed in agreement. The door into the bar flew open then, and the outside cheers bounced around the Mother-locke Inn, causing Marius to cover his ears. Standing in the doorway were five very different men, and a woman.

    They did not dress strangely, indeed they actually seemed to fit in with the town. But the station which each were from was an unusual mix. A rich noble man stood in the middle, but did not seem to look down on his companions. The next was what appeared to be a shepherd; with his crook and mud splattered features, he stood tall and proud. The man standing behind him was either a smith or belonged to another manual profession due to his rippling muscles and bent back. The woman stood beside him, and Marius could tell she was a tailor; she wore a sewing cap that held various needles for various tasks, and was tied with a length of measuring tape. The two other men dressed in a similar fashion. Their padded clothing and weather stained features made Marius think that they were herders of the massive cattle that roamed the planes. The door closed behind them, and the cheering from outside was muffled. The six figures walked over to where Olaf, Marius, and Durie sat, and the nobleman looked at Olaf with a frown.

    He had a well-trimmed blond goatee that matched his braided hair, and his steel grey eyes seemed to stare right into the soul. He had a certain kind of presence with the way he held himself. His fur lined cloak bore his family''s coat of arms, which depicted a large black bear rearing up on its hind legs, and in its front paw held a thistle. The surrounding shield was stitched in golden thread, and Marius could immediately see that this was going to be the new Jarl.

    He took off his black leather gloves and tucked them into his gilded belt. He then extended a hand to Olaf and said, ¡°My name is Wulfred Beorson. Would you care if my friends and I joined you?"

    Olaf indicated to the surrounding spaces around the table, leaving Wulfred''s hand to hang unshaken. He leant back in his chair as the new arrivals dragged their seats into a rough circle around the table. Olaf pulled out his pipe, and lit it with a snap of his fingers, which caused all but Wulfred to stare slack-jawed at the spiralling smoke.

    Wulfred sat down and cleared his throat. "Olaf, before you executed Tiberius Reanik you asked for the most highly regarded people in all of Trystem to allocate a new Jarl. We are those people. In past years, we have held this town together. We have tried to cure the sickness, and curbed the guards¡¯ aggression, but now that we no longer need to heal and skulk in the shadows from our oppressors, we can rebuild Trystem into what it once was. In order to do that, we need to restore the governing body of this town."

    Olaf sat and took in what Wulfred was saying.

    Nodding once, he looked around at the newcomers. "Very well. I will accept your proposal as well as allow you to vote for a new ruler, as Vakringuardian law dictates that in a challenge to the death, the winner, which would be me, must rule in the stead of the loser. However, I do not wish to rule, nor will I ever seek that path. Therefore, I will give my position to the people of Trystem to decide who their new Jarl shall be. My guess is that you, Wulfred, are the people''s champion, and you will be wearing the crown next. However, this will be brought to the attention of the high king in High Hall, so I will write a letter of recommendation to whomever is voted to the throne. Remember this, Wulfred: to rule is to be a servant of the people. The crowd does not need an old battered hero to chop off their ruler''s head."

    Wulfred stood up, bowed to Olaf, and thanked him.

    Olaf merely waved him away, and looked over the table at Marius. "Now, lad," he said. "Are you ready to go to Doflhiem?"

 Chapter 14:

    Alun traipsed after Orei and Huldain, finally conceding to the fact that ranging may not be the most action orientated career path. However, his two days on the job allowed his learning curve to sky rocket. In his flight from Stonehill, Alun had found that without Orei, he would have been lost in the endless green of the forest from the moment he stepped into the leafy dark. But now, after watching Orei track through the hidden paths between the trunks and over the roots of the Black Forest, Alun felt confident in his ability to navigate the green roads beneath the branches. He had also been taught the basics of marksmanship and self-defence with his new weapons ¨C including the revolver, which he found to be very loud. As Alun learned to use his own weapons, Orei taught herself how to perfect the use of the rifle, but, like Alun, she found it extremely loud; the echoing boom flew around the surrounding forest and bounced against the trees, causing birds to take flight around the three rangers.

    Orei led the way with Alun close behind. Huldain kept a steady, loping pace behind them, taking in their surroundings with a large smile about his bushy face, as if he were walking through a garden that had finally come into bloom. Alun was beginning to find that the way from Stonehill to Doflhiem was, for the most part, downhill, which meant that the way back was mostly uphill.

    It took them a day and a half before they reached the sulphur crested ridge where Orei had released her second canister against the wargs. Paw prints littered the ground and Huldain stooped to look at them. He followed a set for a while with Orei and Alun tailing him, crossbows at the ready. They had decided to stop using the revolver and rifle for the time being, due to their proximity to Stonehill and not wanting to attract any unwanted attention from the strange wargs. Huldain continued on after the prints; his large cloak flared out behind him, and a small breeze picked at his hair and beard. He held his massive axe in one hand and occasionally used it for support when climbing a particularly steep incline.

    Alun could tell from the light in the trees and the smell in the air that Stonehill was not far away. The previous day and a half of trekking had been spent in similar dense forest, but now as the beams of light which sparkled against Orei''s axes and armour became denser, and the smell of mulching, decaying wood thinned in Alun''s nostrils, he could tell that a vast clearing lay ahead. The wargs had used a similar forest road to the ones Orei and Huldain used in their ranging, and this seemed to trouble them a great deal. They discussed it in hushed tones as they continued to follow the wargs prints.

    "I don''t know, Huldain,¡± Orei said. ¡°To use the roads, it shows a certain degree of sense that I hoped these bastards would nae have. To use the roads means they know how to navigate these woods; it means they don''t want to get lost."

    Huldain nodded. ¡°I fear you are right,¡± he said, ¡°this leaves us with only one course of action."

    Orei glanced up at Huldain. "And what¡¯s that?"

    Huldain paused in his tracking just as the branches cleared onto the scorched landscape around Stonehill. "We must kill them all."

    Huldain straightened up to his fullest height and strode boldly out into the clearing. Orei peered out of the undergrowth, then beckoned Alun to follow as she pulled out her rifle and prepared to fire, no longer caring for secrecy. Alun cocked his revolver, and followed the other two rangers down the south-eastern slope into Stonehill. As they passed the ruined homesteads on the outskirts of the town, howls echoed around the desolate buildings, chiming like the perverted bell of a twisted church. Alun, Orei, and Huldain stood back to back, shooting looks this way and that for any signs of the mutated monsters. Huldain hefted his axe, Orei looked down the sights of her rifle, and Alun held on to his revolver, eyeing the roofs and alleys that surrounded them.

    Suddenly, out of a small alleyway on the far end of the main street, a pair of grotesque canine mutants slunk out with a purposeful pace. They drew closer to the three rangers, with more gathered from the darkest shadows of the desolate town. Huldain cursed as he saw the sheer number of sharp fanged, razor clawed, yellow eyed fiends loping towards them. He brought his axe up just as Orei and Alun opened fire.

    They scattered, those wargs, ill prepared for the fire that reigned down upon them. Orei picked off warg after warg as they fell from the higher buildings, Alun shot back the ones that now came charging from the lower shades. The gunfire caused the wargs to panic, but it was only a matter of time before the bangs from their Dwarvish weapons ceased. Alun looked in horror as he realized he had run dry of shots. The same had happened to Orei, who cursed colourfully in Dwarvish, dropped the rifle, too late to reload, and unsheathed her axes, leaving Alun to holster his revolver, and pull forth his own issued axe.

    The wargs gave out a triumphant howl and charged with renewed vigour. Yet it was now that Huldain stepped to the fore, in front of Orei and Alun. He lifted up his giant axe, and brought it down with all his might upon the cobblestones of Stonehill.

    A bright crimson light erupted from Huldain''s axe, and the wargs stopped dead in their tracks. Cracks appeared between the cobblestones, glowing with same light which cascaded out from the axe¡¯s blade. Within moments of it striking the ground, the street and with it, the whole town of Stonehill, flew in all directions, shattering what was left of the town.

    Alun and Orei had shielded their eyes from the explosion, and looked about them peering through the dust and rubble to a town that had been standing seconds before, now reduced to a steaming, blood splattered crater. Huldain straightened and looked around at the destruction he had caused. Not a single warg survived and, as he hefted his axe onto his shoulder, neither had Stonehill.

    Alun stood shaking beside Orei. He knew that Stonehill was lost forever with the whole populace being massacred, but as he looked at the rubble and mutilated wargs, he felt that now more than ever, there was no going back. Huldain waited for Orei to pick up her rifle and then started to walk on in the direction of the northern border mountains.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Alun still stood for a moment shaking, and then snapped. "Huldain, what in Odin¡¯s name was that?"

    Huldain paused. Looking back at Alun, he said simply, "Magic, Alun."

    Alun frowned, asking. "Magic? What do you mean magic?"

    Huldain continued walking and said over his shoulder in gruff tones, "Magic. As in, I just saved your life so don''t question the impossible."

    Alun grumbled to himself, but with a motivating nudge from Orei, he followed Huldain out of his destroyed hometown and made for the mountains.

    The foothills began to steepen, and the green earth of the forest started to turn into hard and rocky ground. The forest to the north of Stonehill was thinner than the one further south, as the altitude caused the aged trees to grow slower and smaller. The maples and oaks had been left behind down in the warmer valleys, and up in the heights of the northern border, spruce and birch trees made up the overhead canopies. Pine trees and other evergreens also grew throughout, giving the landscape a spiteful and haunted feel.

    Alun, Orei, and Huldain passed through the high valleys and ravines of the northern border mountains, with Orei looked desperately for any signs of a Dwarven passage through. The harsh weather had eroded much of these paths, and as Huldain joined the hunt, night came reeling in, forcing them to make camp. It was the third night in the wilderness for Alun, and although usually he had found it hard to sleep, out here he had no problems.

    The night was half gone when Orei roused Alun from his bed to take watch. The three of them had been rotating throughout the night, watching the stars and counting four hours each before the next would take up the post. Alun wrapped his blankets about him, and sat on a fallen trunk. A small fire burned next to both Huldain and Orei as they slept, keeping them warm in the frosty heights of the mountains.

    Clouds had covered much of the sky, making it hard to see the stars and moon which floated ominously above, lighting up the grey clouds and causing strange shadows to imprint upon them. Finally, some clouds gave way, and allowed Alun an unrestricted view of the full moon. Beams of light shot through the branches, and lit up the forested scene around him. Strange glowing lights seemed to pulse from the ground, and Alun frowned as he pulled out his axe and went over to inspect them. He leant down and hit it with his axe, producing a light ting, and as he tried it again, Alun realized that the glowing, pulsing orbs were in fact rocks.

    Alun looked up, and saw a distinct line trail higher into the mountains. He rushed back into camp and shook Orei and Huldain awake. "Orei, wake up! Look at this! Come here!"

    Orei rubbed her eyes, and sluggishly followed Alun, whilst Huldain rolled over, waiting for Orei to come back and tell him it was important. Orei stopped short as she looked at the rocks through groggy eyes, and followed Alun''s finger as he trailed the glowing track through the mountains. Processing this, her face lit up and she stumbled back to camp and began packing her equipment.

    Huldain got up and did the same. "What is it, Orei? What did Alun find?"

    Orei paused in her packing. "Alun found moonstone, Huldain. We¡¯ve found our path through the mountains!"

    She quickly finished packing, pulled her black cloak about herself, and used her axe as a walking stick. Huldain grabbed Alun''s gear as well as his own, and followed Orei to where Alun had found the trail.

    Alun watched Huldain and Orei climb up after him, waiting for his pack. Huldain passed it over and then, when all three were ready, they started off into the night, following the Dwarven moonstone trail. The dark ominous shadows of the mountains dominated the surrounding landscape as the moonstone trail led them higher and higher. Finally, the ground plateaued in the crux of two giant mountains.

    Orei, Huldain and Alun continued on, walking between the two mammoth structures. The Dwarven trail that accompanied the moonstone became clearer as the sheltering protection of the ranges enveloped them. Steep edges often loomed next to the trail, causing Alun to slow his pace. The moon began to sink in the sky, making the moonstone dim, and eventually cease, leaving the dark Dwarven path on its own.

    Huldain decided to wait. "It is too dangerous to continue with no light. Wait for the sun to rise, then we shall walk the Dwarven path."

    They made camp, and waited for the sun to shine over the northern peaks of the border.

    Alun heard flowing water, and peered over the ravine''s edge to see what was at the bottom.

    Huldain walked over to Alun and sat beside him. "That is the western fork of the Mother-locke river, which trails through Stonehill and further down through Cornerstone."

    Alun sat solemnly, still upset with Huldain over the complete destruction he had wrought in Stonehill.

    Seeing this, Huldain cleared his throat, a noise akin to a bear¡¯s growl. "Look, lad. I am sorry for what happened to Stonehill. I only did what I thought was the right move in that situation. If I would have paused, we would¡¯ve died."

    Alun looked up at Huldain. He was frowning, anxious for Alun to know he had done all he could. His empty socket wrinkled strangely around its scar, and his aged features seemed to show more now, on the road, than they had done in his forge.

    Alun dipped his head, accepting Huldain''s apology, and said, "It¡¯s alright Huldain. I haven''t lived in Stonehill for many years. Besides, it was already gone when you levelled it."

    Giving Huldain a hollow smile, Alun watched as the sun shone down into the ravine.

    They continued on, following the Dwarven trail now that the moonstone had gone. Shadows passed over the ravine, and Alun frowned as he looked up to see what was making them. Massive birds soared through the air high above, nesting on the mountain tops.

    Huldain looked up at them too, and growled.

    Alun looked around to Huldain. "What is it?"

    Huldain pointed to the birds, and Orei looked this time, letting out a groan similar to that of Huldain''s growl.

    "Rocs," said Huldain. "Or Thunder-birds, depending on where you are from. They swoop down and eat men whole, but they prefer Dwarves."

    He gave Orei a sideways glance. "I think it would be best if we stick to the shadows and press on in stealth. If I were to release any magic in this ravine, it may end us all."

    The three of them shuffled against the cliff side to their left, and tried to hide beneath the overhangs and crags that littered the trail. They finally made it out from the ravine and saw a clear pass through the last of the mountains. A Dwarven style archway sat over the track to pay homage to the Vakringuardian Kingdoms. As they passed under the arch, they opened out onto yet another desolate landscape. This, however, was a forest, and not a town. To the north, they could see a lone mountain with a castle perched on its top, and Huldain pointed to it.

    "That is where we will find Olaf. He rarely leaves that place, and if he is not within his halls, he shall be close to them."

    Yet, Alun was not listening to Huldain. His mind was still stuck on the sight before him. The whole forest appeared to be rotting; decaying marshlands reached out from beneath the forest¡¯s branches, and the trees themselves seemed bulbous and pus filled. The mountain''s foothills rippled out into the deadly scene.

    Huldain looked around at the forest with a deep seated anguish, and Orei said with a sweeping arm, "Behold, Alun, the eastern wastes of the Eldar Wars."

 Chapter 15:

    The old Jarl was lifted into a wooden ship with his sword across his breast. His head had been sewn back onto his neck so that he could travel into the next life and not curse the town he had left behind any further. Wulfred Beorson stood with an axe in his hand waiting for the right time to cut the dead Jarl loose. Finally, as the last herbs had been laid at the dead man''s feet, Wulfred gave a cry and cut the rope, sending the Jarl''s ship into the next world. Archers stood at the ready in the shallows with flaming arrows, and when they were sure the ship was at full sail, they let loose. It burned easily; flames enveloped Tiberius Reanik, and then caught onto the rest of his ship. The sails flew into ash and scattered away on the winds, the bow sank beneath the waves as flames weakened the wood, and water rushed in below deck.

    As the ship fell into flames, the townsfolk of Trystem took up the old three lined standards of their town and set them alight, replacing them with the Beorson bear and thistle. Olaf stood next to Durie and Marius, listening to the townsfolk celebrating the life of their previous Jarl. Drinks poured freely into horns, all bought and paid for by the now new Jarl Wulfred Beorson-Trystem.

    Tradition in the Vakringuardian Kingdoms dictated that the triumphant must celebrate the dead and the lost. Music spilled into the streets, and dancing could be seen on every corner. Dwarves danced with men and women, who in turn danced with each other. Jarl Wulfred sat on his new throne, wearing his new golden band and watching the celebrations with a smile. His people were happy. He was content.

    As another tradition in the northern kingdoms, when a new Jarl is crowned, warriors may seek his token as an honour guard. A line of these token seeking warriors came up before the Jarl, eager for his honour. Some were turned away in disgrace; those who had formed the guard to the old Jarl were among these, and the ones who were accepted wore their tokens with pride, and celebrated with their comrades.

    The Jarl left his throne, and came to stand next to Olaf, Marius, and Durie. He offered three golden bracelets in his hand and looked at the three of them.

    "Without you, my town, and indeed my kingdom, would still be poisoned. I shall not speak ill of the dead, but because of you, Olaf, we are free. It would honour me to have you as part of my honour guard."

    Olaf, regarded the golden tokens and turned to the Jarl before looking him in the eye. "I am sorry, Wulfred, but I must refuse. I am bound to no man, nor will I ever be. Durie here is bound to another king, and therefore shall not accept either, however I believe he may be a wonder as your blacksmith."

    The Jarl nodded, and his eyes fell on Marius. "And what of you, Marius? I have seen your blades at work, and I know few can withstand them for long. Will you lend your black blade to my cause?"

    Marius looked back up at Olaf who was eyeing him, amused, wondering what his decision would be. He looked at the golden bracelet shimmering in the dying light of the day, and Marius shook his head. "I am sorry, Jarl, but this black blade is not to be held under one name. Nurlin, smith of Mjolnir, crafted this blade for himself, and now it is my honour to hold it. That is all the honour I need."

    Wulfred stared for a moment, startled by the rejection. He did, however, immediately recover, and bowed his head. "Fair is fair. I understand your positions, and if I am unable to have you as my honour guard, please accept my friendship. I will also take your suggestion into account, Olaf. New warriors need new arms, and that means I need a smith.  I hear Durie is the best in Trystem, and if I must have him, then so be it!"

    With that, the Jarl walked back to his throne and received more warriors to his cause.

    Olaf smiled and looked down at Durie. "Seems you have a paid job now, my friend. You can finally stop drinking that pigswill, and afford something a bit more high- class."

    Durie chuckled at this, and slapped Olaf on the back of his leg. "Aye, you bastard, it would not surprise me if you had planned this whole thing just so you would have something good to drink when you came down here."

    Olaf laughed at that, and with Marius at their side, Olaf and Durie headed to the nearest bar. Marius looked at this Inn''s sign, and smiled to see a new painting of the Beorson coat of arms swaying in the breeze over the old name: The Jarl''s Inn. Olaf, Durie, and Marius pushed into the tightly squeezed pub to applause and cheers. Hands constantly patted the three of them on the back, and Marius heard Durie mutter to Olaf, "I''ve got no idea why I¡¯m getting cheered and slapped, I didn''t do anything."

    Olaf hauled the Dwarf onto his high shoulder, and cheered with everyone else, saying in his booming voice, "Behold Durie, saviour of Trystem!"

    Cheers erupted louder than ever, and blushing, Durie tried to hide beneath his beard. Olaf waited for the cheers to die down, before lowering Durie. The three of them found a vacant table, and sat down, watching the celebrations with pride. Ale and Dwarven mead flowed from every tap, and Marius was taken by surprise when a band kicked up next to them.

    The bard whom had played in the Mother-locke inn was now at the head of his own band. Flutes played with a fiddle, and a stomping man played a strange assortment of bags and pipes. A drum was giving a steady beat, which drove the crowd into a spinning dance as the bard let out a surly tone. His fellow musicians joined him in his singing, and Marius was surprised to find that they spoke in a strange language that was neither Dwarvish nor the common tongue of man.

    Olaf''s foot was thumping against the floor in his drunken enjoyment, making the table shake with every stomp. Durie too seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself. Marius, who was curious about the language, leant closer to his two companions, and in a drunken slur asked, "Olaf, Durie, what languash ish that?"

    Olaf''s head swung around, and a massive smile split across his scarred face, "''tis Nordic, Marius, the ancient language of the north."A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    Marius raised his eyebrows, and looked about him at the dancing crowd, throwing their heads backwards and forward, and jumping up and down with their arms raised. As the song came to an end, the crowd clapped and cheered. A woman walked onto the stage, and the crowd cheered louder as she pulled out a strange instrument with keys like an organ, but with a bellows in the middle.

    She sang with the bard, and together they played a rolling lay in Nordic. This drove the crowd wild, and even Olaf got to his feet and started performing a strange kind of shuffle. Durie sat at his seat, giving the excuse that he could not dance. The crowd swirled around, and with each drink, Marius found himself more committed to join in the fray. Finally, he got to his feet, and was caught up in the jumping, stomping, head banging crowd. Marius didn''t quite understand the movements his body was making, but he decided to follow where it led. He leaped and floundered in the air like a fish, he hopped from one foot to the other, and yelled out, trying to guess the next words to a song in a language he had never heard. He would have felt ridiculous, even if he was as drunk as he was, but everyone else seemed to be doing exactly the same. Olaf at this point was hoisted above the crowd, and lay on his back as they carried him around the room. They poured whiskey and Dwarven liquor into his mouth, which he washed down with mead.

    ¡­

    Celebrations carried on through the night, and into the early hours of the morning. Marius woke up on a sticky table, and as he looked around, he groaned. The blurred scenery started coming back into focus as sun¡¯s beams trickled in through the cracks in the closed curtains. A fire crackled in the fire place, and bodies lay strewn about the floor.

    Marius slid sideways off the table, and fell onto a sleeping Durie who seemed comatose as he lay curled beneath the table. Olaf sat in an armchair in the corner of the bar smoking his pipe. He gave his student a wink as Marius carefully sidestepped the sleeping patrons. Marius suddenly felt light, and as he reached around to discover why, he found Nurlin''s blade missing out of its sheath. Panic immediately gripped him and he desperately looked around. Olaf cleared his throat, and when Marius looked up at him, he nodded to a dart board on the wall. Both Olaf''s and Nurlin''s blade sat embedded into it. The board itself hung cleaved in two, held up by the two swords. Marius sighed with relief, and made his way over to them. He pulled his black blade out, and to the chorus of groans and cursing, half of the dart board crashed to the floor.

    He sheathed his sword, and attempted to pull out Olaf''s. A surge of energy shot through Marius as he gripped the hilt, and he felt as if he could accomplish anything. He pulled at the sword, and felt it begin to come free. Just as the blade came sliding out from the wall, Olaf clapped his hand on Marius''s shoulder, and pushed him away from the sword. With a single hand, he tugged and the blade flew out of the wall, easily releasing the second half of the dart board which woke up half of the room.

    Olaf sheathed his glittering sword, then gave Marius a fixed look. "No man should take up my sword, Marius. It¡¯s dangerous."

    Marius nodded, afraid that he had crossed a line with Olaf, but to his relief, his teacher gave him another wink. "That-a-boy. Now, we need to get some provisions then we can set off to Doflhiem."

    Together they made their way out onto the street. The sun was high in sky, but the town still held a frigid chill. Marius wrapped his overcoat around him, and followed Olaf through the messy streets. People had already awoken and started to tidy the town from the night before. Hungover peasants picked up bottles, horns, and tankards, and took them back into the inns and taverns. Merchants swept the streets about their shops, and tradesmen fixed broken windows and other accidents that had occurred in the drunken celebrations.

    Olaf finally stopped at a publisher and printer''s building close to the rich halls in the centre of the town. An aged man in a strange poufy hat sat outside, with his head in his hands. Green tattoos not unlike Olaf¡¯s were spread over his skin, and they seemed to glimmer slightly in the morning sun.

    Olaf approached the man. "Hello, Bartholomew, long time no see."

    The old man''s face fell when he saw Olaf, and he hurried inside his shop. Olaf followed him with Marius close behind. A small bell tinged as Marius shut the door behind him, and as he looked around, his breath caught. Shelves upon shelves of books and scrolls littered the walls. Some of them appeared to be as old as the ones Olaf kept in his study, while others seemed newly scribed, with the ink still wet.

    Bartholomew continued deeper into his shop, with the subtle glow of his tattoos shining against the leather bound tomes on the shelves; Olaf continued to follow him.

    The old man cried out in a squeaky voice, "Leave me alone, you trouble-maker! Everywhere you go, you disturb people''s peace. I was quite happy to sit at home and drink and smoke ¨C I didn''t want anything to do with that dragon."

    Marius immediately took his eyes away from an alcove of particularly crinkled scrolls at the word dragon.

    Olaf sighed. "That was not my fault. I only recruited you because you had a particularly interesting scroll that I wanted, and you would not give it up. It¡¯s quite your own fault really; I didn''t ask you to jump in and slay it. I had a few people who were itching to do that themselves, and they were all quite put out by your heroism."

    Bartholomew finally ran out of space when he took a wrong turn and hit a towering wall of maps.

    He turned around and pointed his finger right into Olaf''s massive chest. "You knew I would jump in! You planned the whole rotten business, bloody dragon worshipers.  I still have nightmares about that high priest!"

    Olaf shrugged. "Either way, I did not ask you to join us. You volunteered."

    Bartholomew snorted. "Volunteered? I distinctly remember being peer pressured by you, Durie, and that Rutchnarian fellow into joining your little hunting party. I wouldn''t have minded if that bloody lizard couldn''t talk, that''s the thing that got me: those big golden eyes and that silky bloody tongue of his."

    Bartholomew gave a shaking spasm. "Ugh, still gives me the shivers today."

    Olaf patted him on the shoulder. "It is all alright. It¡¯s gone, and it¡¯s not coming back." He straightened up, and clapped his hands. "Now, I do need your help with something: a map, or in fact three maps that I know you have."

    Bartholomew shook his head in disgust. "I¡¯m not going with you, you bastard. I¡¯ll give you the maps you want; you can have them. Curses and trouble are all you bring."

    Olaf rolled his eyes. "You are so bloody dramatic. What did you expect when I said dragon worship? All you had to do was hand over the scroll and you could have sat back and drank yourself into an early grave if you so wished."

    Bartholomew grumbled something about immortality, and turned around. "Which maps are you after?"

    Olaf paused for a moment to collect his thoughts, and looked up at the wall of maps. "I need a map to show every way in and out of the Alturine Empire from Lornea. I need a map of the kingdoms of the north, and a current chart for the Mother-locke in case plans change."

    Bartholomew grabbed each map in order, and once they were all handed over he gave Olaf a hard look. "Now, get out. I¡¯ve helped you enough."

    Olaf put up his hands after he tucked the maps and chart into a satchel he had produced from his overcoat. "Ok, we''re leaving. I¡¯ll send Durie by with some booze for you, if you''d like?"

    The old man just grumbled some more, and returned to the depths of his shop.

 Chapter 16:

    Alun cringed at the smell that wafted through the wasted half of the black forest. Olaf''s castle had disappeared hours before, under the rancid trees, and as the night came reeling in, Orei cursed to herself.

    Looking up to see Alun staring at her she said, "There are worse things than wargs in the mutated wastes of the Eldar Wars. Be on your guard."

    Alun felt shivers creep up his spine as his eyes darted around. Taking in the gathering shadows of the twilight hours, he felt as if spying eyes were in every hole and crag of the rotting forest. Huldain had said little since they had left the mountains. He seemed to be in a depressive mood, and he looked about him with anguish in his eyes, occasionally touching a tree or rock and letting out a heaving sigh.

    A foggy mist started to swirl about them in rolling banks as sharp ridges cut across the shadowy landscape. The sun had almost set, but for some strange reason, light still lingered about the wastelands.

    Alun frowned, and tapped Orei on the shoulder. "What is going on? What is this light, Orei?"

    Orei looked back at Alun, and Alun could see fear in her eyes. "You will see very soon, Alun," she said, and as the banks of fog fell away into a clearing, Alun stared in horror at the strange sight before him.

    A massive horned skull lay half sunken in the forest floor. The large ridges that Alun had mistaken for hills swept across the entire forest, and were in fact the skeletal body of a truly monumental beast. Green flames flicked across the ground, and trailed up into the beast''s bony nostrils. Alun craned his neck to see the eye sockets, and shivered as the skull towered above him.

    Huldain looked up at the massive beast, and dropped his pack next to a fallen tree. He turned to the others. "There is no point continuing on tonight. We will reach Olaf''s castle by midday tomorrow ¨C rest now."

    Orei dropped her pack and began unravelling her bed mat. Alun crouched down beside her and followed suit. Huldain stood, looking around, and without warning took his axe and disappeared into the fog.

    Alun watched him go, and turned to Orei. "What''s his problem? Ever since we arrived in this forsaken place he has been sullen and distant."

    Orei looked around herself, checking if Huldain was near. Then she licked her lips nervously, and glanced up at the huge skull. "Huldain, was not always a smith in the pit of Doflhiem, Alun. I know that you know he was a great hero, and after what happened in Stonehill the other day, I think you might understand what happened here."

    Alun sat on his bed mat and waited for Orei to continue. "During the Eldar War, the Eldar corrupted many creatures. Wargs are among those beasts, but another thing they corrupted was the dragons. Now, dragons had already been changed by the god Glauran. They were originally stupid, slow, and fat creatures, but the Dragon King saw potential, and used his mother''s dark magic to craft them into intelligent, god-like monsters. They obeyed their King and named him father, but after he was killed by Kaehan, the dragons followed their own agendas. That was until the Eldar used dark magic to control them, and use them against men and Dwarves. Some dragons fled into the far north not wanting to be controlled, whilst others were bent to the will of King Vlasmir.

    ¡°The Eldar formed a guild of dragon riders and called themselves the Dragon Knights of Lornea. When they lost their immortality, the Eldar launched these Dragon Knights on the kingdoms of Fanir, Altona, and Branir, the kingdoms that now make up the Alturine Empire. Huldain, Olaf, and another hero stood against them here, on the eastern slopes of the Black Forest, and won. The dragons and their knights fell, and because of their corrupted hearts, the ground became poisoned and scorched by the power of the three heroes."

    Alun sat in amazement and looked about him. He stared up at the massive dragon skull, and imagined Huldain standing opposite it, with his axe shining against the dragon fire, and his red tattoos glowing against the scales of the beast.

    Eager for another story he asked, "What happened after that?"

    To Alun''s surprise, it was Huldain''s voice that answered. He had been sat on a sunken knuckle bone listening to Orei''s tale.

    "What happened after that?" He repeated, emotion thick in his voice. His good eye twinkled in the green light, and his scars and tattoos seemed to paint a strange picture about his face. "After the destruction here, the third hero left me and Olaf to go and find the source of the Eldar''s dark power. When he came back, years later, he was different. The war was over, and the royal lines were challenged by the Alturine Inquisition under the orders of the Elduinian Church. We had won against the Eldar, but had lost against the very people we protected. Enraged by this, Myrian, the third hero, made a vendetta against the newly formed empire, believing that the Alturine Inquisition and Church had their own secret plans. Olaf and I were forced to create an inescapable prison in which we could hold him, and together we succeeded. Since then, the kingdoms of men and Dwarves have known peace."

    Orei piped up. "Mostly known peace; there was that incident with that dragon in Nordlhiem."

    Huldain nodded. "Yes, well that is a story for another time and by a different story teller. It¡¯s best if you get some rest. I will keep watch ¨C I never get any sleep in this retched place."

    Alun rolled over, closed his eyes, and watched the green light from the flames flicker against his eyelids until sleep finally began to wrap around him. Questions bounced around his head from what he had been told, but they slipped away, ready for tomorrow as his thoughts turned into dreams.

    The sun blurred Alun''s sight as he opened his eyes, and the first thing he noticed was the silence. He had not noticed the bird song before, in both the forest and the mountains, but now with their absence, Alun felt uneasy. Orei and Huldain were eating chunks of bread and water, waiting for Alun to wake and pack. Alun pulled himself to his feet and rolled up his mat. After checking everything was in order, he pulled out a wedge of bread, and ate hurriedly with the other two.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    As he finished his last mouthful, Alun looked about him. The mist had lessened with the daylight, and the green dragon fire seemed to have died down a little. Together, led by Huldain, the three rangers headed out from the clearing and through the light fog until they were out into the open forest again. Alun had forgotten the stench the rotting trees and plants released, and so he walked with his cloak wrapped around his nose and mouth, as well as covering the rest of his body.

    Questions still swirled around his head from the previous night. Huldain seemed to be following the back and tail of the skeletal dragon, using the bones as landmarks as he continuously adjusted their course. Marshes bubbled and popped either side of the skeleton, and it took Alun a while until he realized that they were actually using the dragon as a pathway through the forest. He looked down, and saw, below the dirt and grime, the occasional white glint of dragon bone.

    Finally, the stinking trees gave way to a long sweeping plain that ended in the distance with a river.

    "That," Orei said, pointing to the water, "is the eastern fork of the Mother-locke river. Olaf''s castle is north west of here."

    Huldain shook his head. "We will not be going to the castle."

    Both Orei and Alun looked at Huldain in alarm. They had just spent four days of hard trekking through harder country to reach Olaf''s castle. Huldain saw this.

    "Peace, friends. I only say this because Olaf is not, in fact, in his castle. I can feel his presence; the swish of his blade can be heard in the town of Trystem to our north. We must race there with all due haste, but I fear we will be too late, for it is an extra day¡¯s hike. Olaf will be fine as he always is. Let us just meet him there and see what has transpired."

    With that, they set off across the plain. Great winds buffeted them, and the Rocs of the mountains flew overhead, stalking the giant cattle that grazed there. They passed the occasional herder, clad in chain mail and holding large spears on horseback, then halfway across the plain, Alun saw first-hand a Roc attacking. It dropped from the sky, talons at the ready, aiming for a particularly slow beast.

    A herder saw this, and spurred his horse on, charging to the back of the pack. It was a race between horse and bird; Alun held his breath as the two crashed together. The herder wielded his spear with amazing dexterity. He slashed at the giant bird, causing it to adjust its angle and take back off into the sky. However, still persistent and now angered by the herder, the Roc changed direction once again, and dived on the spear wielding farmer. Seeing this, both Orei and Huldain sprang into action.

    The herder held his ground, and held the tip of his spear towards the diving bird. Huldain ran with the full charge of an angered bear, leaving his pack to fall behind. His cloak flew like rippling wings, and his axe glittered, parallel to the ground. Orei dropped her own pack, and loaded her rifle. She fell onto one knee, and aimed her sights on the diving bird. Alun stood, his hand on his revolver, dumbfounded at the spectacle that was unfolding before him. A bang echoed across the plain, causing the cattle to scatter. The herder''s horse bolted, carrying its rider to safety. The Roc''s descent seemed to slow as the tightly angled dive turned into a loose and limp fall. The sickening thud and crunch caused the earth around Alun to shudder, allowing the shock to subside he picked up Huldain''s pack and ran over to where Orei was kneeling. The Dwarfess stood, and stowed away her rifle. She picked up her pack, and together with Alun, headed over to Huldain. The Roc had made a crater on impact, and its reddish brown and white feathers flew in the wind, speckled with its red blood.

    The thumping hooves heralded the arrival of three herders, including the one who had fought off the Roc. They stared in wonder at the fallen Thunderbird, and looked at Orei in amazement.

    "How did you do that, Mistress Dwarf?"

    Orei shrugged and patted her rifle. "A little bit of Dwarvish engineering and aim is all, lads. Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯m sure these will leak into your part of the world soon enough."

    Alun handed Huldain his pack, and the three of them continued on their way to Trystem. Huldain''s mood had lightened since they had left the bone infested Black Forest, and he whistled strange tunes, occasionally singing some stranger lyrics. Orei seemed to enjoy this as she walked, and the whistling rhythm was given a beat by her hands, tapping on the head of her ornate axe. Orei had taken his larger axe out of his pack and used it as a walking stick across the monotonous landscape.

    The Rocs had scattered since Orei had shot one of their kind, and the giant cattle had been herded into control by the fearless herders. The ground became rockier as they drew closer to the banks of the Mother-locke. Huldain had followed his short friend¡¯s lead with his axe, using it as a cane for his pace, ensuring that he didn''t tire, although Alun doubted Huldain could tire at all. Alun noticed that every time Huldain''s axe touched the earth, a smouldering mark was left behind. He looked across at Orei to point it out, but found the Dwarf looked fondly at his own axe.

    Alun looked at the silver axe in Orei''s hand. Dwarven runes trailed up the centre of its silver shaft, and was encompassed by silver swirls. The head shone in the sunlight extra bright, and after looking closer, Alun could see tiny Dwarves carved into and around the head and blade. These Dwarves were all kneeling, praising a central figure who sat on a golden inlaid throne. In one hand, the figure held a golden hammer, and in the other it held a golden book.

    Alun looked up from the axe to see Orei looking at her. Orei seemed guilty, and Alun remembered when Orei had tried to explain herself. This time, Alun decided to let her.

    Orei glanced to her axe for a moment and then looked back up at Alun. "You are still wondering why I don''t hold my axes in Doflhiem, aren¡¯t you?"

    Alun nodded, waiting for Orei. The Dwarfess cleared her throat and went on. "In Dwarven custom, the better your weapon the higher your station. If a lower class dwarf was to have a better weapon than a higher class Dwarf, they would fight for the right of the weapon. Of course, the value of a weapon is not classified by what it is made of, but rather what it has done. This axe was forged in the original God Wars. It is held by the crown prince, or in my case princess, of Doflhiem as a reminder that all rulers must balance actions with consequence."

    Alun stared at Orei. "You are the crown princess of Doflhiem?"

    Orei''s guilt returned as she bobbed her head. "Yes. I am sorry I did not let you know. Few people do. That¡¯s why I left my axes out of Doflhiem. I wanted to serve my father''s people as more than just a figure head."

    Huldain had slowed down, and was now walking beside Orei.

    He clapped Orei on the shoulder, and with a big smile said, "And a fine figure head you have become. Dwarf rulers have always been down to earth, but you, my lass, shall be a ruler that your ancestors will envy."

    Orei smiled up at Huldain. "Thank you, Huldain. From you that is a most gracious compliment."

    Once again, twilight loomed over the plains, and the distant campfires of the herders could be seen huddling close together. Huldain, Orei, and Alun sat at their own fire, shielded from the vicious winds and cold by their Dwarven proofed clothes. Again, Huldain took watch over Orei and Alun as they slept.

    Trystem could be seen lit up by many fires, and the rolling thump of music and merry making was heard in the distance.

 Chapter 17:

    Marius walked out from Bartholomew''s shop with Olaf. The satchel was slung across Olaf''s chest containing the three scrolls he was after. People were still tidying from the night before as they passed Durie''s forge, and they saw him with his head in his quenching trough. Olaf laughed, and walked over to him as Durie pulled his head out, sending water spraying in all directions. His black and grey flecked hair shone against his gold and bronze braiding.

    Durie looked up, and smiled at Olaf. "All praise the saviour of Trystem? A curse you have laid upon me, old man. I will never rest now for the insistence of the mob. I have half a mind to return to Doflhiem and receive similar torment. At least that place has better hiding spots ¨C I may join Huldain in his pit."

    Olaf smiled and clapped him on the back. "You speak like a friend of ours whom I just visited." Olaf hefted the satchel of scrolls. "Bartholomew is in need of company, Durie, and as his companion, it falls to you to drink with him. Now, before you begin your next hangover, point me in the direction of a conscious stable boy so that I may purchase a pair of horses for the road ahead."

    Durie released a long sigh, and went into his house. Moments later, he came out with two bottles under his arm, beckoned to Olaf and Marius to follow, and hobbled down the street, groaning to himself and massaging his temples with his free hand.

    Durie led them through the streets, occasionally staggering from the intoxication he had endured the previous day. People had started to pull themselves together by now, and the streets began to bustle with the sound of production. Hammers hammered and saws sawed, and the ting and thump of different materials began to echo through the town. People started to converse loudly, excitably, and some passionately, then finally the thump of hooves and the neighing of horses could be heard over the growing ruckus of Trystem.

    Durie led them into a side alley, and then into a main street. A stables sat on this intersection, and Durie turned to Olaf.

    "Well, now I have taken you to your stables, I believe that this will be farewell."

    Olaf nodded. The humour from before seemed to have left him for a while as he bid farewell to his friend. He bent down, and grabbed the Dwarf''s wrist pulling him into an embrace. Durie repeated the exercise with Marius who was pulled, quite unexpectedly, into a rough, liquor soaked hug. After being released, and without a word, Durie left, toddling back down the alley they had come, on his way to see Bartholomew.

    Olaf drew himself up and walked into the stables with a purposeful step. Inside, a farrier stood bent over an anvil, shaping a horseshoe. He had not noticed Olaf and Marius enter his shop as he worked, beating the metal with a methodical ting. He finally straightened, holding the hot metal in a pair of clamps, and as he turned he caught sight of Olaf, and yelled. The horse he was about to shoe panicked and kicked out, sending the farrier flying across the stable. The shoe he had just finished shaping landed with a clang at Marius''s feet.

    Olaf waited for the commotion to settle down before he approached the wheezing tradesman. "Are you alright there, lad?"

    The farrier nodded, and pulled himself to his feet. The horse had kicked him right in the ribs but the young farrier seemed fine; Marius had to look hard until he saw the Dwarven made proofing which showed beneath the apron.

    The farrier rolled his shoulders a few times to check for any problems, and looked up at Olaf, then across to Marius. "How can I help you today, sirs?"

    Olaf looked around the stables. "I would like to buy two horses. I need a charger or a shire horse; my young companion could settle for something a little less large."

    The farrier nodded. "Well, I keep a fair amount of Shires in stock. They¡¯re a favourite horse of the herders, but they ain''t real fast and they ain''t real smart. Docile and dumb I call ''em. I have one charger at the moment, but I was looking to make him a gift for the new Jarl. But, seeing as you did all the hard yards, I''ll sell him to you. I''ll even make you a deal on the smaller horse."

    Olaf smiled at the young farrier. "I would appreciate that. Take me to this charger, and Marius? Go and find a horse you''ll get on with."

    Marius shuffled a little before speaking, ¡°but I don¡¯t know how to ride,¡± he spoke quietly and Olaf¡¯s features softened.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, lad,¡± he said, ¡°I¡¯ll teach you on the road.¡±

    Marius felt a little relief and left Olaf and the farrier, and went to look at the horses in their stables. Some paced impatiently, weaving their heads at the door waiting to be fed, while others stood, eating the very hay they slept and relieved themselves on. Finally, Marius found a horse that was perfect for him: it was a chestnut, lithe and healthy. It stood at its door looking at him with intelligent eyes, ears forward. Marius went up to the door, and on a chalkboard hanging on a peg next the horses head was the name ¨C Titan. Marius immediately made his way back out into the main stable area where Olaf was putting a saddle on a giant, steel blue charger. It¡¯s short, braided black tail whipped across its flanks with impatience, and it threw its head around in what seemed like dismissal.

    Olaf stood back and looked at the horse with a look of disapproval. Suddenly, a man walked into the stables. He wore a golden band, given to him by the Jarl. He looked around, and then, spotting Olaf and Marius, he made his way over to them.

    He bowed, and then in as much of a formal voice a northern accent could muster, he said, "To the saviours of Trystem, Olaf and Marius. My Jarl, Wulfred Beorson-Trystem, Lord of all Trystem, and left-tenant to the High King Balsun Stromunson, beseeches you to join him in his golden hall."The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    The warrior bowed once more and then left. Olaf looked at Marius, and then the farrier.

    "I''m sorry, lad, but these horses must wait,¡± Olaf said. ¡°Please, take this pay and take care of our steeds. Marius, give the name of your horse to this man, and then let¡¯s go and see what Wulfred wants of us."

    Olaf and Marius exited the stable, and made their way through the circular roads of Trystem until they finally entered the inner compound. The Jarl''s hall sat atop the hill that Trystem was built around. Its flags fluttered in the wind, displaying the Beorson sigil of a bear holding a thistle.

    The hall had curved, gilded carvings that showed the history of Trystem. Above the door, a small dragon skull, which was still big enough to dominate the wall, hung, held up by golden spears and gilded rope. The golden doors creaked open, and Marius and Olaf made their way inside. Pillars held up the vast roof, and a huge fire sat in the middle of the hall. A whole pig was speared, and rotated slowly, sending out juicy smells which tickled Marius''s nose and sent his belly into grumbles. Tables were spread about behind the pillars, and on an elevated platform at the end of the hall, the Jarl''s throne stood. Wulfred himself stood next to his throne, talking to the messenger that had found them in the stables.

    Olaf made his way up the steps until he was directly in front of the Jarl. "Good morning, Wulfred."

    The Jarl turned to Olaf and nodded. "And to you Olaf. Marius."

    Marius nodded back, and waited for an explanation.

    "I have asked you here for two reasons,¡± the Jarl continued. ¡°The first is to reward you for what you have done for my town and kingdom."

    Olaf lifted his eyebrow, but allowed the Jarl to go on.

    "The second reason is that a few scouts of mine have seen a Dwarf and two men walking across the plains, one of which matches your...um..." The Jarl indicated to Olaf up and down.

    "Build?" Olaf chipped in helpfully.

    Wulfred seemed to sag with relief. "Yes, build. I was wondering if they were friends of yours?"

    Olaf paused for a moment, staring off to a dark wall within the hall, then returned and nodded. "Yes, they are. I would appreciate it if you sent out a cart to speed them along. And as for the reward, give it to Marius. He started the ball rolling ¨C or heads as it were."

    The Jarl nodded, and clapped his hands. A chest full of gold was brought forward, and Marius looked at it in dismay.

    "How am I going to carry all that around with me?" He queried.

    Olaf looked down at the gold, and then to Marius. He then looked up at the Jarl and said, "Have Durie, your new smith, take it up to my castle and put it in the treasure room. No one else ¨C only Durie can gain entrance safely."

    Wulfred nodded. "It shall be done. Bainar, go and seek out Durie the smith and do as Olaf has bid."

    The warrior who had sought Olaf and Marius out left to go and find Durie. With that, Olaf turned and made his way to the door. Realizing that Marius was not following, he turned.

    "Are you coming, Marius? I''m going to go and wait at the gate for our friends."

    Marius frowned, and wondered what friends Olaf was talking about. They made their way towards the gates of Trystem, and waited. The mid day''s light beat down on the cold town, giving a little heat to the northern skin of Trystem''s citizens. Marius felt time slip by, and started to worry. Anxiety gripped him as each long moment dragged by. Olaf leant against the gate''s frame, humming to himself and occasionally whistling a tune. He had his eyes closed, and Marius knew it would be useless to ask questions.

    Finally, after what seemed like an age, a cart could be seen trailing up the western banks of the Mother-locke River; a huge man sat in the centre. With his black hair, and, from what Marius could see, red tattoos, the man looked like a bear. Next to the giant, a red headed, beardless Dwarf sat talking to a man Marius knew. He would recognize the blond hair and button nose anywhere. Even though he had not seen him since he was a child, Marius knew the face of his own brother.

    The cart rolled over the bridge with a sound like thunder, and pulled up in front of Marius and Olaf. Marius stood dumbfounded at the revelation of his brother as Olaf made his way over to the cart.

    In a thick booming voice, Olaf welcomed his friends. "Huldain, Orei! It has been too long. We were actually on our way to see you and the king. How are you?"

    Huldain''s usual one eyed scowl split into a smile as he embraced Olaf. "I have missed your ugly face, brother."

    Olaf smiled, and released Huldain, pulling Orei into an embrace. "Orei, how are you? You look well, which is surprising since you are ranging with Huldain. How is your father?"

    Orei chuckled as she fell out of Olaf''s embrace. "Fine, fine, I am fine, he is fine. How are you, Olaf? I meant to see you sooner but I got caught up with something."

    Orei gestured to Alun who was peering past Olaf at Marius.

    Olaf looked between the two and smiled. "It would appear that we have a family reunion. Marius, come over here and say hello."

    Marius blinked, and looked up at Olaf. Nodding once, he strode over to his brother. Alun stood still, amazed that his brother had survived the devastation of Stonehill. Marius looked different than what he used to; he was broader, stronger, and a serious look was fixed across his face. His brother''s dark hair was pulled back into a small ponytail, with stubble darkening his cheeks and he wore an overcoat over rich clothing. Slung across his back was an ornate sword, and another smaller sword hung off his hip.

    In turn, Marius took in the differences of his brother. He wore a strange jacket littered with Dwarven runes and symbols. His boots had metal toe caps, and also seemed Dwarven made. A strange weapon hung from his brother''s hip, which resembled a smaller version of what the Dwarf had slung across her back. An axe was strapped to Alun''s pack, and Marius sensed his brother was not adept with its use. Alun was different physically too. Ever since he had left to work at the Alturine University, Marius had imagined his brother as a weak, bent old man. But, the man that stood before him was strong, long haired and bearded. He stood tall against what he had seen, and Marius assumed that he had seen a lot.

    Marius stood in front his brother, took aim, and to the surprise of Olaf, Huldain, and Orei, punched him square in the jaw. Alun fell to one knee, looking up to his brother with tears in his eyes. Marius fell to his knees with tears streaming down his own face.

    "You are alive!" he choked.

    Alun pulled Marius into an embrace. "Yes, brother, I am, and so are you!"

    Together they knelt in an embrace, mourning the loss of their family, but rejoicing for their discovery of each other.

    ¡°I never thought I¡¯d see you again!¡± Marius sobbed.

    Alun shook his head sadly. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for all these lost years. I was on my way home when all this trouble started.¡±

    Alun felt a hitch in his throat and a tightening in his chest at the mention of home. It wasn¡¯t home any longer.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter anymore. We are together, that is all that matters!¡± Marius beamed at his brother, tears streaming as he held him close.

    Alun finally let himself smile. ¡°It¡¯s good to see you again, little brother, it really is.¡±

    Finally, after a long embrace, the brothers stood. Marius turned to Olaf. He wiped the tears from his face, and introduced his kin. "Olaf, I would like you to meet my brother, Alun. Alun meet Olaf, my mentor and teacher."

    The two shook hands, and Olaf smiled. "Pleased to meet you, Alun. If you are anything like your brother, then I am looking forward to traveling with you."

    Together, the five companions made their way into Trystem in search of an inn.

 Chapter 18:

    Myrian looked down at his chains in anger. He could hear the beating hearts of his guards just behind his door, and he could feel his inner monster crave the sweet release ¨C but he didn''t let it. The sound of merrymaking could be heard from somewhere outside, and Myrian could see lights flicker beyond his barred window. Again, he looked down at his chains. For the past millennium and a half, he had been stuck here, secretly tapping his chains against the floor. Grooves had appeared in a stone floor that was charmed against escape and carved out of condensed rock by his brothers, but finally he had found his way through. His white and golden chains had been with him for so long, he had formed an elemental understanding of them.

    Footsteps fell from outside as his freedom drew closer. A hatch slid open and a tray shot across the floor towards him. Water, bread, and a slab of dried meat as per the same routine day in and day out. But this time, as Myrian lifted up the bread, a single shard of his brother''s metal fell onto the tray. Myrian smiled. The cook had been successful, and now he had his freedom.

    He picked the shard up, and with one quick jab, his chains fell away. Myrian rose to his feet, and looked down at the torn rags that hung loosely upon his thin frame. He rubbed his wrists, and released fifteen hundred years¡¯ worth of tension from his neck and back with a series of cracks.

    He walked over to the door, and peered out of the white and gold bars. The heartbeats of the guards grew louder as he drew close. Myrian looked down at his hands, and traced the tattoos that had once shone bright yellow. Now, they were dim, and a faded shade of dry blood curved about his skin as a reminder. Myrian tensed his hands, and felt his muscles move beneath the skin. Again, he peered from his cell door and reached out towards the two guards standing either side. Two clicks later, and their heartbeats could no longer be heard. The guards slumped to the floor, and Myrian held the key to his freedom within his hands. He opened his cell door and pulled the two guards into his cell, locking the door behind him, and stepping out into the ancient hallway.

    The floor consisted of entwined steel, which at a pull of a lever could fall into the empty space below the Doflhiem prison. Myrian looked through the gaps, and shuddered at the sheer amount of nothing that was beneath him.

    Deciding not to dwell in this place any longer, Myrian made his way to the armoury at the centre of the prison. He navigated the twisted labyrinth by listening to the heartbeats and murmurs of his Dwarven guards. Myrian rushed through, not paying any attention to the other inmates who cringed away from the bars as he ran by. Occasionally, he would hide in the shadows as guards patrolled the corridors, and other times he would strike, leaving the guards dead in his wake.

    Finally, he found the armoury. Normal steel bars and a door locked away the prisoner¡¯s weapons, just as they locked away the prisoners themselves. Myrian smiled as he produced Huldain''s shard, and with a quick swipe, he sliced open the lock and entered the room beyond. Two guards sat at a table playing cards, and they stared dumbfounded as the door swung open to show the full figure of Myrian. They tried to scream, but Myrian was too fast, cutting off the noise in their throats as they gargled blood and fell to the floor.

    Myrian looked at the corpses in distaste, and searched the room for his weapon. Long ago, Myrian had wielded a great golden bow, fashioned from the steel of a dying mountain. It gave him great power, and together with his brothers, he could achieve anything. Now, as he opened the unlocked white and golden metal box, he smiled at his bow reformed. A golden pistol sat in its holster beside a golden knife. Yellow runes flew over each weapon, and a note was pinned to some dark clothes folded beside Myrian''s new bow. It read:

    M.

    I had some excess material left over. I hope you don''t mind, but I also forged the knife. Happy hunting, my friend.

    S.

    Myrian smiled, and picked up the clothes. After shedding his own rags, he pulled them on; the dark material felt as if it was the softest thing Myrian had ever worn, and as he looked down, his smile grew. He wore black leather trousers complete with black leather knee high boots, a white cotton tunic, and a felt trimmed, leather black cloak.

    He pushed back his long, reddish, brown hair, and strapped his new weapons to his waist; the pistol had a secondary strap which he fastened to his thigh. Myrian made his way across the prison and out onto one of the service exits which were attached to the chains that held The Hanging Block up. Readying himself, Myrian looked down at the chain and leaped. The wind rushed through his hair, and his cloak flew out behind him. The free fall was short, but long enough to punish any miscalculation with a much longer fall. He landed on the massive chain, and smiled to himself. Now, all he needed to do was walk across this bridge to freedom, and stroll out of the front door of Doflhiem. Myrian took it at a run, his cloak spreading out behind him, as on either side, a long drop into a lava filled river flew past. The fixed point of the chain drew closer, and Myrian could feel his excitement boil within him.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    Finally, he reached the wall, and jumped. Any normal person would have died from the height, but not Myrian. He landed just outside a small guard house in the military district, on a balcony overlooking the streets and pubs of the tier. Myrian could hear a fluttering heartbeat within the room, and he made his way in ¨C and stopped. He could smell the overpowering scent of Huldain within, but only saw the sleeping figure of a man. Myrian frowned. Huldain had not been here himself, but someone who knew him had.

    Myrian turned to leave, and just as he did so, the sleeping man awoke. Myrian leaped off the balcony, and landed in a small dingy alleyway. Yet again, the smell of his brother wafted out, and Myrian watched as a drunk stumbled down the alleyway towards him. Myrian panicked, his fangs extended, and he was moments away from striking when the drunk tripped and looked up at him.

    "You wouldn''t happen to know where my bed would be, would you, old chap?" He slurred.

    Myrian retracted his fangs and stopped for a moment. He pointed in the general direction of the guards¡¯ quarters, and then walked casually down the alley, betting that the drunk would have no memory of what had just happened.

    Myrian made his way towards the lifts, enjoying his freedom. The people that walked the streets around him had no idea who he was; most of the older Dwarves seemed to be either in bed, or in another place, but any Dwarves with grey hair, Myrian avoided. Even then, he still felt as if at any moment an alarm would sound, or someone would point and yell.

    Myrian reached the lift without incident, and rode it up until he reached the ground floor. He looked about the cart station for a cart to the southern gate and found one. A small "S" was carved in the rear left seat of the cart, and Myrian smiled as he realized his friend had left this for him. He pulled the nearest lever, and hoped that his years of eavesdropping would help. He had heard guards talking about how to maximize the use out these carriages for years, and now as his own rolled forward, he felt the thrill of success. It did not take Myrian long before he hit top speed, with pillars, camps, and barracks all slipping past as he raced through the Dwarven-made landscape. Myrian saw the southern gate shine out as his cart sped forward, and finding the levers, Myrian pulled his cart up into a slow roll, which came to a stop in the southern gate station. He smiled, as he saw the gate hang, slightly ajar. He ran across the courtyard towards the gate, and found another "S" carved into the floor. Myrian smiled once more as he slowed, gave one last look at Doflhiem, and sprinted to his freedom.

    Mountains reared up on either side of the outside gate, and Myrian glanced up at them, checking the coast was clear before he ran his last leg to freedom. A steep ravine shot up high above the southern gate, and as Myrian ran, he took in the carvings of the Eldar wars upon the rocky walls. They showed the Dragon Knights of Lornea standing against three heroic figures. Myrian shuddered at the memory, so much power was dangerous ¨C truly dangerous since anyone could have it.

    Myrian ran the length of the ravine, and found his anxiety clear slightly as the walls around him widened into a vast, ruined castle that stood above the pathway. Two great archways led behind the throne room, and Myrian felt sadness creep into him as he remembered the King who ruled here, both tall and humble. Myrian walked past the throne, and laid a heavy hand upon it. Scorch marks scarred the high archways, and as Myrian walked into the great hall, he saw chips and holes scattered throughout: signs of a battle which was lost. Myrian felt angry, and his anger grew into a rage as he thought about his brothers standing idly by and allowing this to happen. He walked out onto the steps, and saw the scene that lay out before him; the small town of Cornerstone was no longer small.

    Myrian saw the smoke of industry rise up from the town, and tracks led away to a larger city in the south. The flowing fields and vineyards that surrounded Cornerstone were well maintained, and the Dragon Fang Mountains which split the Alturine Empire down the middle spread out to Myrian''s right. Trees grew scarcely, chopped down and burned by the industrial fires of Cornerstone, and cleared for the placement of fields to fill the bellies of Alturine.

    Myrian''s fangs extended as he roared at the atrocities he beheld. Nature had been chained and worked for the Empire which sought to enslave all man-kind. This is what Myrian knew, and this was what he must stop. He headed down towards Cornerstone, trying to control his anger as he started to descend the foothills of both the Mjolik Fjords and the Dragon Fangs.

    Myrian found himself strolling through a small pine forest as the slopes lessened. Gentle birdsong flew through a steady breeze, and the smell of crushed pine needles permeated from every footfall. Myrian smiled, and breathed in the fresh air. It had been an age since he had felt the touch of nature; he had been confined in rock and steel for so long that he¡¯d forgotten what the sight of a rising sun looked like, and how the sounds of birds could uplift the soul.

    A small cabin puffed away, and as Myrian drew closer, he saw young children playing outside, running around their mother who was carrying a freshly baked pie. Myrian could hear their heartbeats: the slow tired thump of the mother, and the fast little hammering thumps of the children. He smiled at the scene, and decided to continue on his way.

    This is how people lived before he was imprisoned. They harvested from nature, and could be wiped out with a single snowstorm. These people needed protection ¨C they needed Myrian and his brothers to stand vigilant against the monsters at these people¡¯s doors.

    Myrian continued to walk through the forest, and reached its edge just as the sun rose higher up into the sky. It was mid-morning by now, and Myrian felt hunger gnaw at his belly. He heard in the distance more hearts beating, but these were sluggish and lazy. He walked in their direction, and found a road cutting across the landscape, straight and long, leading towards Cornerstone. Myrian saw on this road a small guard house, with guards lounging lazily outside, soaking up the morning sun.

    Myrian smiled, and walked down the road towards them.

    <h2 class="s1okktje-0 hSAFrk"></h2>

 Chapter 19:

    "Myrian has escaped?" Olaf stared incredulously from Huldain to Orei. "But how? I enchanted the prison myself ¨C and Huldain, you forged his bonds! How could Myrian have broken out of that?"

    The tavern they were in seemed quite high class; the leather armchairs and large fire place gave the patrons a sense of grandeur as they walked across the floor boards. Marius sat beside his brother, listening to the conversation. The companions had sat together, recounting the events which had transpired, leading up to their reunion. Once Orei had told the details of Myrian¡¯s escape, Marius could tell from Olaf''s reaction, that this was a serious problem ¨C maybe even more serious than the Eldar who had destroyed his home. He sat in silence, waiting for Olaf to form a plan.

    Olaf sat in his chair and took in what was around him. Thoughts of Myrian''s escape circled his thoughts as his hands automatically pulled out his pipe and tobacco pouch.

    Olaf''s blue smoke trailed over this floor as he thought. It investigated the surrounding building, and not once was he interrupted by his friends. They all looked at him expectantly, even Huldain, who seemed anxious and worried about his older brother.

    Finally, Olaf pulled himself out from his wandering thoughts and looked at his companions. "We must find Myrian and capture him before he causes any harm. Then, and only then, can we start on the other threat of the Eldar."

    Huldain frowned. "Olaf, he has at least five days¡¯ lead on us, ten by the time we get back. Horses cannot trek the mountains, so their speed can only buy us a day or two."

    Olaf looked at Huldain, and pulled out one of the maps from his satchel; it was the map of all the northern kingdoms. Marius frowned at the title, wondering if not Alturine, then what was classed as a southern kingdom?

    Olaf stretched out the map, and pointed to the eastern fork of the Mother-locke. "We will sail," he said. "We will take the eastern path of the Mother-locke River, and then take the Doflhiem canal into the Dwarven city. Once there, we shall take horses out of the southern gate and into Alturine."

    They all looked at the map on the table; Huldain rubbed his beard, and Orei played with her nose ring, nodding.

    Alun frowned at the map, and then looked up at Olaf. "How do we know he would have left by the southern gate?"

    Orei chipped in almost automatically. "It¡¯s the least guarded gate in Doflhiem, and it¡¯s one of the closest from the prison. If he was going to leave the city, he would have left by the southern gate."

    Alun nodded, now happy with Olaf''s plan. Olaf looked around once more at his friends with a questioning look. "Any more questions, or shall I go and arrange a boat to take us to Doflhiem?"

    With the affirmation from everyone, Olaf and Marius stood up and left their companions to rest, and enjoy the warm food and cool beer after their long hike to Trystem. Olaf strode out into the afternoon sun with a strange mixture of happiness and worry; he was glad to see his brother again, but now with the other one on the loose, he knew his work had just doubled. The Eldar were proving to be difficult enough without Myrian, but now it would be a race against time to capture one and defeat the other.

    Marius was, as always, trailing behind Olaf''s massive figure. People stopped and stared, whilst others clapped, cheered, or waved, trying to catch the old hero''s attention. To his surprise, Marius saw that Olaf was not the only one who was being applauded, and as a sign of professionalism, he decided to follow Olaf''s lead and focus on the task at hand.

    The dockyards of Trystem, where the previous Jarl was set to rest, sat beside Trystem in a man-made port, carved out from the banks of the Mother-locke. Fishermen who had been bedridden and deathly ill a day before, now hauled their nets and sharpened their harpoons ready for their first day back on the job. Five large longboats sat in port, whilst two others could be seen on the horizon. Out on the river plying their craft, more boats were being built in an adjacent shipyard, where carpenters and builders were working together non-stop trying to restore Trystem''s depleted fleet.

    Olaf looked down at the docks from his vantage point at the gate, looking for any idle captains or boats to rent. He saw one in the last pier, the fifth boat. From what Marius could see, it didn''t look very waterproof. Olaf stepped on board the leaking boat, and inspected the deck. The wood seemed old ¨C very old ¨C and holes littered the sides, giving a close up view of the water. The sails were patched, and the figure head, from what Marius could make of it, used to be a bear, but now it was scarred into obscurity. Olaf found the captain asleep. A cloak was wrapped about him, and a worn, weather-stained tri-corn hat was pulled over his eyes. Bottles rolled about underneath his chair, and water seemed to leak out from his boots which were resting upon the rudder.

    To Marius''s surprise, Olaf savagely kicked the chair from underneath the captain''s sleeping body and sent him sprawling across the deck; the bottles skittered in every direction, and one landed beneath Olaf''s foot. The captain spluttered awake, yelling, and moaning at the same time. He pulled his hat back from his eyes, saw Olaf, and his yelling fizzled into a low groan. The captain adjusted his hat, and wrapped his cloak about him, trying to form an illusion of stability. His blinking consisted of one eye sluggishly falling as the other eye attempted to stay open. He swayed with the waves, but in the wrong direction, and from what Marius could tell, the man was completely soaked.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    Olaf leant down, and in a quiet but menacing voice, said, "Captain DeSanglier, I presume?"

    Robert DeSanglier was, as Marius later found out, an alias of a pirate called William ''Cutlass'' Carvey. Olaf had interrupted Carvey as he was attempting a raid on the High King''s ship, and Carvey had jumped overboard, escaping with his life.

    The now Captain DeSanglier attempted to keep a calm exterior, before throwing a hidden knife at Olaf, and making a dash for the river. Olaf dodged the knife with astonishing speed, and grabbed the Captain''s leg just as he was in mid jump over the side. Carvey cried out as he smashed into the side of the boat. The dockyard guards, who had just been sworn in and were ready for excitement, came over to see what the fuss was about.

    Olaf hauled the Captain back onto the deck of his ship, and looked up at the two guards who were boarding the boat. "Gentlemen, I believe you are just about to arrest the infamous pirate, Bill Carvey. Tell your Jarl to send a note to the High King with his head."

    Marius had never seen Olaf act so heartlessly; even when he had cleaved up most of the old garrison he had seemed more empathetic. Carvey screamed and kicked as the two young guards dragged him away. Marius watched them go, and turned around to see Olaf testing the rudder. He offered no explanation of his actions, but Marius surmised that Olaf was not overly fond of his enemies escaping.

    Olaf had decided to claim the pirate''s boat for his own, and headed to the dock master''s office to sign the appropriate paperwork on a captured vessel. Half an hour later, and the boat was theirs. Olaf hummed to himself as he tucked away the documents into his overcoat. He had sent a small cabin boy off in search of Huldain, Alun, and Orei with the dock number and vessel. Olaf had named the boat "Go Fast" in the vain hope that it would live up to its name.

    Together, Marius and Olaf stood on the docks looking at their new boat. It didn''t inspire much confidence, and now that it was theirs, it looked worse than before; the holes appeared bigger, and the sails seemed to be just rags in the wind.

    Olaf shrugged, and then sighed. "Well, lad, it looks like it needs some patching up before we set sail. Let¡¯s go over to the ship yards and see if we can''t get some help."

    They headed back into the main dock area, and then headed right into the shipyard; the sawing of wood and hammering of nails surrounded them as they walked between the large boats being made.

    They found their way into the centre, and saw a man standing next to a low table looking at plans.

    Olaf strode up behind him, and cleared his throat. "Hello there, good man. I was wondering if you could perhaps allow me to borrow a few men so that I may get my vessel out into open water as soon as possible."

    The man simply waved Olaf away, and said in a shrewd voice, "¡¯fraid not, mate. These are my men, and not even the Jarl himself will command me to give them leave. We are far behind on our work since the sickness, and now we need to work harder than ever."

    He turned, still looking at a diagram, and then let it fall as he saw Olaf. "Of-of-of course you, sir, can have all the men you need, sir; free of charge, sir."

    Olaf bowed his head, as if only acknowledging a kind gesture. "Why thank you, my good man. My boat is the in the last dock; I would like it in a good sailing condition by midday tomorrow."

    The man simply nodded, and continued to murmur his apologies and assurances that Olaf''s boat would be in fine working order by tomorrow.

    Marius walked beside Olaf with a small smile on his face. Olaf looked down at his pupil, and frowned.

    "What?"

    Marius looked up at Olaf, and his smile grew. "Wherever we go, we either get into fights or end up with free things, like beer or a boat."

    Olaf himself smiled at this, and nodded. "Yes, I suppose we do. You really should pull your head in Marius; there is no knowing what sort of trouble you could cause next."

    By the time they arrived back at the docks, Alun, Orei, and Huldain were sitting on barrels looking up at Go Fast with worried expressions.

    Huldain watched Olaf walk up the pier, and shook his head. "Where on earth did you find this thing, Olaf?"

    Olaf indicated to the dock they were sat in. "Right here, of course. I have a group of very helpful ship builders coming to fix her up into a fit, fighting fashion."

    Orei nodded, but she had a plain look of panic on her face, similar to when a small child is confronted by a big spider. "I was just going to say, for everyone''s common knowledge, that Dwarves ¨C as a people, not just individually ¨C aren''t rather fond of water, probably because we don''t float too well."

    Huldain laughed, and slapped Orei on the back. "Not to worry, princess. Olaf will protect you; every boat he has ever been on has only sunk once."

    This did little to comfort Orei, and even Alun and Marius looked at each other nervously. As they walked away from the docks, Orei seemed very nervous about their voyage, and Marius had to admit that he was not completely confident with the boat himself. Alun also seemed quite unconvinced by the Go Fast; it didn''t inspire thoughts of plain sailing. However, trusting Olaf and Huldain to carry them safely, he stayed quiet, hoping that all would be well, and they would arrive in Doflhiem ahead of time. They entered the main town just as the pirate William Carvey was being led up the steps towards the executioner''s block.

    The Jarl stood on the podium with the firm belief that he was judge, jury, and executioner.

    Wulfred drew his blade, and called out to the amassing crowd, "People of Trystem, here kneels the dreaded pirate, William ''Cutlass'' Carvey. He has been found guilty of murder, thievery, and treason to the High King; his sentence is death."

    The crowd erupted in celebration as the Jarl spaced his feet apart, and raised his blade. He brought it back down, flying through the air until a sudden squelch and thump heralded the end for Cutlass Carvey.

    Marius watched the head roll, and was silently disturbed by the joy the mob took out of death. Olaf watched with his expression guarded, and Marius felt that this would be closure for some past quest that he had undertaken. Alun sighed as the head was being bagged and the body was hung up by the feet as a warning to other pirates. He looked about the square for a pub, and then signalling to Orei and Marius, he walked in that direction, leaving Huldain and Olaf to follow.

 Chapter 20:

    Marius moaned as he pulled his head off from the table. It thumped in time with his heart, and he felt as if the floor refused to stay still. He looked around at the bar, and his moan turned into a groan as he saw his brother strewn across the floor. Marius decided that he was making a habit of waking up in bars with a headache, and didn''t like it.

    Yet again, Olaf sat in an armchair and puffed away on his pipe, whilst Huldain sat beside him playing a game of cards with Orei. A grandfather clock chimed in the corner, and Alun rolled over and groaned loudly, causing Marius to smile; his older brother was clearly not as experienced with his drinking as Marius had become.

    Marius made to stand up; he found the floor coming up to meet him, and swore. clearly he was not as experienced as he had thought either. He rolled over, and found himself next to Alun and smiled. Alun looked at his brother, and rolled his eyes; Marius seemed to still be drunk as he rolled about on the floor.

    Although the Trystem brew was strong, the Dwarven brew was stronger and Alun pulled himself up into a sitting position, feeling the room swirl around him.

    Orei took a moment to look up from his cards and laughed. "Good morning, sunshine. How are we?"

    Alun waved her away, and grumbled to himself, trying to discern where he had left his brain. Huldain showed Orei his cards, and Orei cursed loudly in Dwarvish.

    The door swung open with a bang, and Durie walked in with a big grin on his face, as Alun and Marius moaned and covered their eyes from the outside sun.

    Orei turned away from her card game with Huldain, and beamed at Durie. "uncle, it¡¯s been a while."

    Durie''s smile grew as he hurried over to his niece. "Orei, you little squirt, you''ve grown so big since I last laid my eyes on you! How are you? How is your old man? And Saurin, how is Saurin?"

    Orei tried to breathe as she struggled out of her uncle''s crushing embrace. Panting, she tried to answer. "Fine, fine, they are both fine, I am fine, everything is alright. But you would know that if you had stayed in Doflhiem."

    Durie looked guilty for a moment. "Aye, I know. But, you know what it¡¯s like for me there. Ever since this big lump," ¨C he jerked his thumb in Olaf''s direction ¨C "came and recruited me to free Nordlhiem from that dragon, I''ve had no peace. At least here I can hear myself think."

    Olaf raised his eyebrows slightly as he puffed on his pipe, and Marius was starting to see that it was not just Bartholomew''s life that was affected by Olaf''s meddling¡¯s.

    Olaf raised a finger in protest and defence. "I distinctly remember a certain young Dwarf who was quite excited by the idea of reclaiming Nordlhiem, especially the part about the dragon."

    Durie rolled his eyes. "Yes, well I thought it would be a lot smaller, a lot closer, and a lot less intelligent. Bartholomew was lucky to get out alive."

    Olaf thought about this, and nodded to himself as he replayed the events in his mind, some of which leaked out into his pipe smoke. Marius watched a smoky figure of a young Bartholomew shooting a bow haphazardly in the direction of a giant dragon, which in turn produced an echoed roar. Olaf realized that his smoke was portraying his memories, and waved them out, to Durie''s and Huldain''s amusement. Alun and Orei simply stared at the smoke, and then at Olaf, transfixed by the magic. Marius smiled at his older brother''s fascination, and attempted to stand up again, this time with a little more success. He made a few shaky steps, and fell into an armchair beside Olaf.

    Olaf offered him a smile, and then looked back to Durie, who was settling beside his niece in an armchair of his own. Olaf packed away his pipe, and looked across at the grandfather clock which showed an hour before midday.

    Olaf cleared his voice, and then to Durie, said, "I''m sure you didn''t just come here to socialize. Indeed, I am sure you are thrilled to see your kin, but what reason was it for you to come and seek us out?"

    Durie looked up at Olaf, and frowned. "Apart from the reason to bid you farewell from Trystem before I take young Marius''s gold to your castle, Olaf, I came to tell you that the ship builders have finished fixing your vessel. I must say, it looks almost seaworthy now."

    Olaf smiled at the news and clapped his hands, causing both Marius and Alun to cringe. "Excellent news!" He boomed, and jumped to his feet, causing his armchair to fall back and crash to the floor. He slung his sword, which had been leaning against the wall behind him, across his back, and his satchel, which was at his feet, over his shoulder, and looked down at his companions expectantly. Huldain gave a resigned sigh and rose to his feet, wrapping his cloak about him before picking up his axe and following Olaf out of the door. Alun had already started to stand when Olaf was speaking to Durie, and now he picked up his pack, and with the help of Orei, they staggered out after the two ancient heroes, leaving Marius and Durie to trail along behind.

    Marius shaded his eyes from the sunlight as he crossed the square towards the dockyards. Carvey''s headless, upside down corpse was being ravaged by two small Vakringuardian ravens as he passed. Marius walked through Trystem''s dockyard gate, and stopped to look at the ''Go Fast'', surprised to see it look completely new. Its sails had been replaced with new black and red ones; the boat itself seemed to be patched and lined for any holes, and the rudder had been replaced with a wheel.

    Marius nodded at the work, and Olaf seemed in the best of spirits. He met the architect from the day before, shook his hand, and gave him a large purse of gold, which surprised Marius because he rarely saw Olaf pay for things. Marius made his way down to the dock and had a closer look at the boat.

    Durie smiled beside him. "Completely new, ain''t she? Beautiful craft now ¨C Orei will be relieved. That girl hates water."

    Marius smiled, and shook Durie''s hand. "I guess this is it then, Durie. I''ll see you next time!"

    Durie smiled and nodded. "Aye, I''m looking forward to it, lad. Look after my niece; Olaf has a record for leading my people astray."You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    Marius assured Durie that he would indeed look after Orei, and walked the plank onto the Go Fast. Orei embraced her uncle, and smiled sadly as she followed Marius on deck with Alun. Olaf and Huldain were already at the helm of the boat, and gave Durie a cheery wave before the Dwarf turned, and walked back up the dockyard and into town.

    Huldain pulled up the chains which held the boat into dock with the help of a few deck hands on shore. When the chains were stowed, Olaf used a large oar to push the boat out into the Mother-locke''s current, before racing back to the helm and steering the Go Fast out into deeper water.

    Olaf was in his element as the wind picked up and blew through his crossed and braided beard. His hair flew out behind him, and he pointed at the sail before yelling over the wind.

    "Release the sails! Have at them, lads: pull the cords and let her fly!"

    Huldain strode over to the boom, and with Alun''s help, loosened the sail into the wind. Instantly, the boat picked up speed, and soared through the water. Orei and Marius stood either side of Olaf, hoping that the old warrior knew what he was doing. The steady thud of the waves was hypnotizing, and soon the five companions were thoroughly enjoying themselves, even Orei, who still stayed clear of the side. Marius and Alun tightened and loosened the sail as time went on, and with the help of the northern wind, they had already passed halfway through the plains by nightfall. Olaf steered the Go Fast out from the stronger currents, and called out for Huldain to drop the anchor as the boat slowed.

    The sun sank below the Mjolik Fjords in the far distance. Marius could make out the Black Forest towards the south, and shuddered at the memory of what Alun had told him about the place. He could just make out the high ridges of the dragon''s backbone, and marvelled at its size. High above, Rocs flew towards their mountain nests to roost, the thunderous footfalls of the Vakringuardian bovine slowed to rested pace and out of the reeds the antlered head of a giant deer, known locally as a hart, came to drink at the lapping shore of the Mother-lockee.

    Marius rolled out a sleeping mat close to the side of the boat so he could see the water as he fell asleep. Orei laid huddled around the mast in the centre of the ship, beside Alun, who had surrounded himself with Huldain''s, Orei''s, and his own packs for warmth. Olaf sat at the helm, wrapped up in his overcoat, and hugging his blade to his chest. Huldain led at the prow of the boat in a similar position.

    A loud splash caused Marius''s drifting thoughts to snap to attention. His eyes scoured the water''s face until he saw large ripples, fanning out from deeper water. Marius rolled off from his mat, and picked his way over to Olaf who snapped awake. Huldain rolled over as well, waking Orei as he did so, who in turn slapped Alun awake. Marius looked into the water, worried by the size of the ripples.

    No small fish could have made waves like that, and if the Rocs and cattle were anything to go on, this could be a big creature. He scoured the river just as Orei pulled out her rifle. Alun followed with his revolver, and the pair of them walked towards the side of the boat.

    Olaf hissed at them anxiously. "You two, get away from the side! We don''t know what this is, and the last thing we want is to end up in its belly!"

    Marius was no longer enjoying his cruise down the Mother-locke.

    Another splash sounded, and this time a large tail could be seen sinking below the waves. Olaf cursed as he saw it, and shook his head. Huldain sighed, and held his axe at the ready as Olaf ran over towards the anchor and heaved it in. Huldain pushed Alun onto the wheel, and told him to steer them out into the current. The Go Fast drifted out, and caught speed as the Mother-locke grabbed them. Another loud splash caused Olaf to draw his sword and jog to the prow of the boat where he came to stand next to his brother, waiting for the creature to attack. Alun did his best to control the boat as the speed increased, and Marius stood on the port side with both of his blades drawn. Orei stood on the starboard, mirroring Marius with her axes. Her rifle was slung over her shoulder, ready for use, and Alun held his revolver in one hand as he wrestled with the wheel in the other.

    Something big bumped the Go Fast sideways, and Orei swore loudly. Alun holstered his gun, and used both hands to try and control the boat. Olaf was leaning over the side with his sword at the ready, and Huldain grabbed onto Olaf''s coat, prepared if Olaf was to fall in. Another bump caused Alun to tip off balance, then another bump later, he tripped and fell, sliding across the deck, and over the side ¨C right into the open mouth of a massive lizard-like monster. He cried out, a loud bang sounded, and Huldain''s arm reached out and grabbed Alun around the waist, hauling him back on board.

    The giant lizard had a large mane of tentacles that grew around its neck and lined its spine giving it extra speed within the water; Orei''s shot had caused one of these tentacles to fly off, and land on the deck with a loud thump. It writhed about, and then exploded, sending purple liquid flying in all directions. Orei and Marius jumped away from it, leaving it to harmlessly fly by.

    Marius turned to Olaf, who was looking about with a worried expression. "Olaf, what is this thing?"

    Olaf glanced at Marius with a sombre look. "Not thing, Marius, things."

    He went back to scouting the waters around them as Alun jumped back on the helm and wrestled with the wheel for control.

    Huldain gave the explanation. "They are Dreagul, Marius. Related to dragons, and many sailors mistake them for one, or a sea serpent, both of which are a hell of a lot bigger. These beasts, however, are poisonous."

    Marius''s mind boggled at a creature larger than these Dreagul. They were bigger than the Go Fast, and dwarfed the Roc and the hairy cattle on the plains.

    Another splash sounded, and Olaf gave a war cry and jumped. His tattoos shone out in the night along with his eyes and the swirling runes of his blade. Marius turned to see one of the Dreagul in mid-air, flying directly at him with its mouth stretched wide open. Olaf''s blade came down just as Marius brought his own up, and Olaf sliced off the Dreagul''s head, sending the body crashing into the river. Marius sliced with Nurlin''s black blade, and separated the giant flying head from its jaw, saving himself from the large poisonous fangs. The tentacles writhed about just as Huldain smashed the head from the deck with the flat of his axe.

    He grabbed the dismembered jaw and smiled. "Dreagul venom is hard to come by, it¡¯s those exploding tentacles that do it. Good job, Marius."

    Marius frowned as he wondered about the second beast. "Olaf?"

    Olaf had shimmied up the mast, and stood on the boon looking out at the river. Alun had finally learned how to control the Go Fast, and looked about himself nervously. Huldain threw the Dreagul jawbone next to his pack, and patrolled the sides for the second beast. Orei had reloaded her rifle, and held it at her hip, ready for a second attack.

    The second Dreagul was smarter than the first. It had waited, and allowed its partner to probe for weaknesses, and now it had found one. Powered by its large tail, it went deep down, and then forced itself up, jumping high onto the stern. Alun turned, fired off two shots with his revolver, and then rolled out of harm¡¯s way. This time, it was Huldain''s chance to show his strength. His red tattoos glowed brightly, and so did his axe. His single eye shone red with his power as he jumped with amazing speed, to deliver a massive upper cut on the falling beast.

    The Dreagul was cleaved from its chest to the crown of its head. Red blood showered the boat, mixed with the purple venom. It fell back into the waves, just as Huldain landed on the deck with a thump.

    Olaf jumped down from his vantage point and laughed as the boat shook with his landing. "That was quite a kill there, brother."

    He slapped Huldain on the back, and then made his way up to the helm to take the wheel. Alun stumbled back over to his sleeping place, just as Huldain picked up his pack and started bottling the Dreagul venom from the jaw. Orei was still pacing up and down the starboard side with her rifle, keeping an eye out for any more trouble, as Marius looked at his blood drenched blade, and sat down to clean it.

 Chapter 21:

    The night wore on as the Go Fast slipped over the Mother-locke, letting the river carry it over each league. None of the companions slept for very long, still alert to the threat of Dreagul or something worse. Huldain had been about to hang the dismembered Dreagul jaw over the stern of the boat to ward of any others, but Olaf stopped him.

    "There are bigger fish than Dreagul out there, brother," he said. "We don''t want to bait the hook for them now, do we?"

    Huldain kept the jaw tied to his pack after that, making sure that no blood fell into the river. Morning came and shined down upon the companions. Orei scouted the path ahead with her rifle''s scope, whilst Huldain skinned the Dreagul''s jaw; Alun sat by him watching him work.

    "Dreagul skin and venom can be combined to make an antidote, whilst the bone is pliable, but strong, which is excellent for bows or sheathes."

    Marius stood beside Olaf, his hand on the long sword, at his side ready for attack. Olaf stood at the helm, guiding his boat through the currents of the river.

    As the sun came up over the plains to the east, the marshes of the Black Forest began to touch the banks of the Mother-locke. Alun had not thought that the forest continued this far, but as the skeletal dragon remains drew closer, he began to realize the sheer volume of destruction Olaf, Huldain, and Myrian could cause. Stonehill was a blip in comparison to this wasteland.

    Olaf stood vigilant, looking out into the dark reaches of the forest, and Huldain stood up in acknowledgment of the past. It was not just the wasteland that scared Alun, but the dragons that lay dead within it. He realized, with both a sense of relief and a twinge of fear, that the Dreagul they had just encountered were nothing compared to these monumental beasts.

    Alun looked up at the two ancient heroes with a new found sense of respect. He had not known how terrifying a monster battle truly was until the Dreagul attack, and now, looking up at the dead remains of the dragons, he knew that neither Huldain nor Olaf had broken a sweat with the water monsters.

    The great Doflhiem canal split off from the Mother-locke, and lined the edge of the Black Forest. It had been so long since it was built that the Dwarven crafted waterway seemed as if Mother Nature had carved it herself. Two great Dwarven statues marked the entrance to the canal, overgrown with moss and cracked in places.

    Olaf looked up at them with a smile. "That is the first Dwarven king, Orin, and his brother Nurlin, smith of Mjolnir and your blade, Marius."

    Orei span around at this, and stared at Marius. "You hold a blade of Nurlin?"

    Marius nodded. "Aye, my black blade was forged by Mjolnir''s smith, and it is my greatest honour to wield it."

    Orei nodded in acceptance, but still watched Marius from the corner of her eye. Marius frowned. This blade was his as well as Nurlin''s; it was an extension of himself, and no one would tell him otherwise. Orei saw Marius''s thoughts run across his face as he touched the black blade, and Orei warned him.

    "Be careful in Doflhiem, Marius. If my people knew you wielded Nurlin''s own blade, they would challenge your honour and fight you for it."

    Olaf laughed at this. "They can try, lass, but I taught Marius everything he knows. If a Dwarf doesn''t want to end up another head shorter, he should watch out around young Marius, here."

    Alun looked up at his brother, and smiled. Marius had always been strong, but now Alun could see it not only in his body, but also in his manner. Marius stood up straight and disciplined; he held himself and his blades with respect. Alun felt a touch of jealousy towards his brother for that. The skill that Olaf had taught him had clearly been worth it. Alun remembered how his brother had cut the Dreagul''s head in half with no more than a twitch.

    Marius still trained, in his mind and now. As they pulled in to the Doflhiem canal, he practiced against Huldain. He was less refined than Olaf, more savage, and he favoured charging instead of strategy. For most warriors, this would be suicidal, but Huldain was a berserker, a warrior that did not heed pain nor stopped his attack to plan. He continued on through all of Marius''s carefully laid plans and traps ¨C nothing could stop him.

    Marius managed to touch Huldain, just before he was pushed to the deck by the haft of Huldain''s axe. Olaf still yelled out advice, but this did little to help him. Orei and Alun watched, transfixed by the display of arms. Even Orei, who was quite adept with an axe, had to concede that if any Dwarf challenged Marius, they would fail. Dwarves could live for centuries, but Marius had something that Orei had never seen: his natural aptitude, balanced with his ferocity and discipline.

    Orei shook her head in disbelief as Marius continuously got to his feet, and tried a different stance, occasionally touching Huldain, but usually being beaten.

    Huldain finally called the practice to an end, and nodded with approval at Marius. "You have taught him well, brother. Well done, young Marius."

    Marius bowed to Huldain, then set about cleaning his blade.

    Alun came over to his brother shaking his head. "I swear you made the old man sweat there for a moment."

    Marius smiled, and continued to clean his blade.

    The scenery changed from the dark, rotting trees of the Black Forest into the high peaks of the Mjolik Fjords. Water gushed and swirled around them, speeding up the Go Fast, causing Olaf to pay more attention to the water way. High cliffs reared up either side, covered in Dwarven carvings, and Olaf could be heard chuckling to himself as he wrestled with the wheel. Suddenly, the sky gave way to rock, and Alun looked up, surprised to see a massive cave encircle them. The water became clearer here, and the fast flowing river turned into a large lake, slowing down the Go Fast.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Olaf gave an audible sigh, making both Huldain and Marius smile: they had arrived in Doflhiem. Orei stood at the prow, watching the underground docks of Doflhiem draw closer. Alun looked about, and was surprised to see how lonely the lake was. They pulled up at the stone docks, and Huldain jumped onto the pier, pulling the docking chain behind him. Two other small boats sat around, and to Marius''s surprise, no people were to be seen.

    Alun craned his neck to see if he could spot anyone, but failing that, he turned to Olaf and asked, "Where are the peoples?"

    Olaf smiled, and indicated to the cave. "Dwarves don''t like water to much. They mostly use this lake for drinking."

    Alun nodded and looked over at Orei, who was pushing the gang plank out, and grabbed her and Huldain''s pack as Huldain secured the Go Fast to the dock. Alun walked across to shore, and smiled as he felt the familiar stone floors of Doflhiem beneath his feet. Marius followed, and looked about him in amazement. Over the past two months, he had heard and read so much about Doflhiem, and now, finally, he had arrived. Marius walked onto the main dockyard and listened to the roar of water, from this lake the dwarves drank and he now realised that the dockyard was, in fact, a vast dam, formed through the cave wall and carved from raw rock.

    A gateway was set in the wall of this cave behind the dockyards, and it was truly massive, decorated with carvings and runes with two statues of angular, stone dwarves, holding the roof aloft. Within the threshold they held on high great aqueducts which channelled the water out into the darkness, towards the Dwarven kingdom. Marius made his way through the gateway, whilst Olaf bid farewell to his boat. Marius peered below these great statues, and was surprised to see a train station and tracks, not unlike the ones in Pasenholme, but instead of a train, strange machines sat upon the tracks. Orei released a long sigh of contentment as she saw the carts, and bustled over to them, cleaning off the dust, and checking that they were still in working order.

    Olaf was the last to see the station, and he gave a small groan as he walked over to the others. Alun climbed into the passenger seat of Orei''s cart, and pulled on a pair of goggles. Marius pulled himself into one of the two back seats, and followed his brother''s lead as Orei did some last adjustments before stowing her pack, and pulling on her own goggles. Huldain and Olaf climbed into the cart behind them, and Marius smiled as he heard Olaf grumbling to himself.

    Orei let out an excited cry as, with a mechanical clunk, their cart began to roll forward. Marius held on, and strapped himself in, suddenly terrified. Alun and Orei who were already strapped in, turned back to see if Huldain and Olaf were ready, before pushing the cart into full speed, and racing off into the darkness. Marius looked about himself in awe. Vast pillars shot up either side, and then continued on into the distance.

    The section of track that they rode on seemed to be abandoned. Empty stations flew past, connected to small underground villages, built around mines that had been emptied of their ore and minerals. Orei pushed on through the ground floor, and slowly the deep orange glow of Doflhiem could be seen in the distance. The settlements grew in size, and lights flitted past the carts as they continued on. Marius began to see people, both Dwarves and Vakringuardian men; traders selling their wears or working in the mines for money. The tracks splayed out in different directions, but Orei stuck on the straight, heading directly to the main hub of the city. Alun saw the lights of Doflhiem draw closer, and he felt a pang of guilt as he remembered Luther. He looked back at his brother, and saw Marius gazing around awestruck, and smiled. They caught one another¡¯s eye, and Marius positively beamed at him, excitement clear in his features.

    Olaf was not having such a pleasant trip. Huldain was not as proficient at driving the carts as Orei was, and every time they were forced to speed up or slow down, Huldain would wrestle with the controls, causing the cart to jerk violently and emit grinding, crunching noises. Furthermore, his straps did not fit around his burly frame, and he had to hold on every time they sped around a corner, otherwise he would have fallen out into the abyss.

    Finally, the Doflhiem station came into view, and with a few curses and a lot of grinding gears, Huldain slowed the cart down and pulled in just next to Orei. Marius leaped on to the platform, eager to see the city. From what he could spot, the very tops of the palatial tier rose up, with its golden domes and towers. Olaf staggered up beside him, white as a ghost. his tattoos flickered anxiously, and Marius smiled up at his teacher.

    "That was fun, wasn''t it?"

    Olaf replied with a series of grumbled curses.

    An old Dwarf stood at the station, patiently looking from Olaf to Huldain with a smile. It was Orei who first noticed him.

    "Saurin? What are you doing here?"

    Saurin smiled as Olaf and Huldain turned around to see him with shocked faces. "A bit shaken by the trip are we, Olaf?" He said. "Well, you never have liked our transport."

    Olaf straightened up, and regarded the dwarf for a moment. Then his face split into a huge smile as he pulled Saurin into an embrace.

    "How have you been, you old goat? It has been too long."

    Saurin managed to pull himself from the giant''s crushing arms, and looked up at him with a smile. "Aye, it has been. I''m grand, Olaf. A bit tired, but business as usual."

    Marius watched as his brother walked up to the old Dwarf and shook his hand. "Hello, Saurin."

    Saurin bobbed his head. "Alun, how are you, lad?"

    Alun had a worried look on his face. "Well, thank you. How is Luther?"

    Saurin''s smile grew a little wider. "He is a changed man, Alun. He has found our library, and is set on reading every book within it. He is a fine scholar. You should visit him before you leave, maybe even take him with you. He could be of some use."

    Alun¡¯s eyebrows shot up and a bemused smile split across his face as he gave way to Orei, who respectfully stood waiting for Saurin to speak. Saurin looked Orei up and down with a serious look, and then smiled again.

    "It would seem you found Olaf, and another."

    Saurin looked up at Marius, waiting for Orei to introduce him.

    Orei walked across to Marius with Saurin. "Marius, this is Saurin, Master of the Western Gate of Doflhiem. Saurin, this is Marius, brother of Alun, pupil of Olaf, and wielder of Nurlin''s blade."

    Saurin''s eyebrows rose. "Well, you are a wild card, aren''t you, lad?"

    Olaf chuckled, and in a proud voice cut in. "Wildest thing I''ve ever taught, Saurin, so I would advise you to steer clear of any challenges for the blade."

    Saurin put his hands up in defence. "Don¡¯t worry, old man. I don''t need any more honour than I already have. Let the boy keep the blade, and shame on any Dwarf that challenges him for it. Now, speaking of honour blades," he looked at Orei. "Would you like me to take yours for you, my princess?"

    Orei shook her head. "No, Saurin, thank you. I''ll bear them proudly from now on."

    Saurin nodded with a smile. "It¡¯s about time, lass. What about those firearms Bourin gave you? How did they go?"

    Orei''s face lit up. "They are amazing. Tell him to mass produce, and send a trading caravan to Trystem. The herders desperately need rifles; the Rocs are getting out of hand. Also, if you could tell him to send a few boxes of ammunition to the southern gate for Alun and myself, I would be most grateful."

    Saurin gave another nod, and then looked at them all. Still smiling, he said, "I will meet you all at the southern gates then. Stay a short while to recuperate; you all look exhausted ¨C even you Huldain."

    Huldain stood behind them all, just as white as Olaf after their cart ride. Together, they all made it off the cart station, and headed into Doflhiem.

 Chapter 22:

    Large bridges stretched over the canyon, linking one side to the other. This is where the companions split into two groups. Huldain and Olaf made their way across the bridges and down to the hanging block to investigate how Myrian had escaped, while Orei, Alun, and Marius headed down towards the library in search of Luther.

    Luther sat translating Dwarven runes into the common tongue. Teaching himself the Dwarven language had been his obsession when Alun left. He had needed something to keep his mind off of the peril his friend was going through, and found it in the books and scrolls of Doflhiem. He had learned so much; the Inquisition had kept lots from him, but here in this library, the tomes he had read and the information he had gathered blew the propaganda away. The gods, the wars ¨C everything was clear to him now. He doubted that even some of the Dwarves who fought against the Eldar knew as much as him.

    Marius opened up the lift, and followed Orei and Alun out onto the scholar''s tier. Orei walked with her axe as if it was a staff, and occasionally a Dwarf would stop and bow. But on this floor, everyone was too busy to notice the three of them. Both old and young Dwarves ran about, holding arms full of scrolls or piles of books. They all seemed to be wearing robes of some sort; the younger wore shorter robes, whilst the elder wore full flowing robes with different coloured sashes.

    Orei and Alun smiled at Marius''s expression. He was awestruck by the busyness and the architecture. The scholar''s tier rivalled the palace, and its grand pillars and golden carvings dominated everything. The canyon walls were carved out further here than any other tier, and knowledge lay at every corner. From the library to the museum, artefacts littered benches and cabinets encased in glass and crystal, some large gems and minerals spiked out from the floor encasing swords, armour and scrolls all of which shimmered in the subterranean light. Carved tablets were strewn across benches with swathes of ancient scrolls and books. Marius got the distinct feeling that if Bartholomew ever found this place, he would never leave.

    Marius and Alun followed Orei into the main library, and Marius''s jaw dropped at the size. The library seemed to continue up into the palace, cut out of the mountain. Shelves and balconies spanned all the way up, with winding stone steps on each level. A giant dragon''s skull hung from the ceiling, and green flames sat in its nose and mouth, lighting up the higher reaches. Marius could just make out a golden sword sticking out from between the dragon''s skeletal eyes, and assuming that this was the blade that had killed it, he continued to look about.

    The floor they were on seemed to be the largest. It spread on indefinitely, and as Marius made his way around the desks and shelves of the first floor, he realized that the high, dragon ornamented balconies leading into the palace was just the foyer. A large circular desk, piled high with scrolls and books, sat in the middle of this foyer. An ancient Dwarf slept with his head resting on a book, whilst five young Dwarves moved about around him, organizing and positioning each book carefully.

    Orei walked up to the desk and cleared her throat softly. One of the younger Dwarves looked up, and saw Orei, then saw her axes. He stopped and bowed to his princess before one of the other busy Dwarves bumped into him, sending books flying in all direction, thumping down beside the sleeping elder.

    The old Dwarf woke up and yelled out in Dwarvish. "Val bon ist fur duchten?"

    He saw Orei, and his anger fizzled away into a smile. In a thick accented tongue, he said, "Orei, mine little diamond! how are you?"

    Orei smiled. "Hello, Tavium. I was hoping you could help me find a friend. His name is Luther, and according to Saurin, he has come to spend most of his time in your library."

    Tavium dipped his head. His beard was so long that it rolled off from the table and onto the floor, and his hair fell behind him in a long braided ponytail.

    "Is true, princess," he said. "Luther spends much of his time within mine shelves. He seeks knowledge and to learn the ancient tongue of our people. He tries to talk to me in it ¨C one of the few who do these days. Last I saw, he was three shelves back on a desk to the east."

    nodded, and thanked the old Dwarf. Together with Alun and Marius, they set out into the eastern shelves in search of Luther.

    He sat behind piles upon piles of scrolls, books, and tablets. His own notes littered the desks about him, and he smiled and muttered to himself, occasionally straightening a new pair of spectacles. He had traded his Dwarven jacket in for the flowing robes of the scholars that surrounded him. Occasionally, a younger Dwarf would come and place a particularly large or ancient tome before Luther in exchange for some information. They had been gone for just a week, and now Luther seemed to have become a true scholar of Doflhiem.

    Alun approached his friend, and cleared his throat. Luther looked about him and clapped with excitement.

    "Alun! How have you been? Saurin told me you had left on a mission. I''ve been here ever since, studying the truth. Who is your friend?"

    Alun stepped aside and introduced his brother. "Luther, this is Marius, my brother. Marius, this is Luther Quail. He was with me in Stonehill; I carried him to Doflhiem."

    Marius shook Luther''s hand, and smiled. "Pleased to meet you."

    Luther nodded, and then looked at the sword on his back. "Likewise, I''m sure. Nice choice of sword by the way. Nurlin''s blade if I am not mistaken?"Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    Marius nodded, astonished. Alun looked at Luther with a strange look. "Since when have you been so knowledgeable about Dwarven blades?"

    Luther turned to Alun and smiled. "Since you left me by myself for a week with nothing to do but study the largest library in Mortaholme. Did you know that if you slay a dragon, you are instantly imbued with all of its years, both past and future? And due to the fact that no one has ever recorded a dragon to die of old age, I would say that you could live indefinitely."

    and Alun looked at each other with raised eyebrows. Marius felt that they didn''t know what to do with their friend.

    Alun looked at Luther and decided to take a direct approach. "Luther, we are heading back to Alturine, hunting Myrian. I was wondering if you would want to join us?"

    Luther was taken aback by such a request. He clearly thought of himself as a desk man, and to be asked to go back out in the field, especially after last time, he didn''t know what to say. If it hadn''t been for his books and clothes in the Capitol, it would have been a straight no. He thought about where he was and how happy this place made him, and then he thought of his home, his possessions. He could get Alun to retrieve them for him, but he knew that Alun would be busy. He sighed, making up his mind.

    Luther looked up at his friends with a resigned look. "I would like some of my old books and my clothes are there, as well as some other trinkets. I will go as far as the Capitol with you, but then I will return here. Is that fair?"

    Alun had no idea why Saurin had said that he would be useful. The old Dwarf probably just wanted to be rid of Luther, but now he was coming with them, at least part of the way.

    Alun sighed and nodded. "That¡¯s fair."

    Luther stood up and stretched. He looked about him, and gathered up his notes, placing them in a neat pile beside a few old scrolls. Together, they made their way out of the library, beneath the giant dragon skull, and out into a lift which carried them high up onto the ground floor. Luther left them, as they crossed the bridge, descending into the Military tier to change and grab some equipment, promising to meet them at the southern gate soon. Alun, , and Marius continued on into a cart station, and strapped in as Orei pulled out, and onto the southern bound tracks towards the gate.

    ...

    Huldain and Olaf made their way down to the Hanging Block. Olaf had not been here since it was built. Saurin had alerted the guards that the two heroes were coming down, the bridge was extended with two guards stood waiting. They came to attention as Huldain and Olaf drew near. Huldain waved them at ease, and then walked past them with his brother. The steel gates, wrought by Huldain''s own hand, swung open for their maker. The warden stood inside. His jet black hair and beard was in contrast with the silver woven within his forked beard, and he stood still waiting for the heroes, clearly anxious about who he was about to meet.

    Olaf looked down at the warden with a stern face. "Are you the one responsible for Myrian''s escape?"

    The Dwarf swallowed and nodded, not making eye contact with Olaf or Huldain, but instead staring down at his feet in shame. Olaf sighed, and shook his head. Together with Huldain, they stalked deeper into the labyrinth with the warden in tow and came to their younger brother''s cell.

    Huldain stood back, and waited for the warden to open it. The Dwarven guard¡¯s bodies had been removed, but everything, the warden assured them, was the same as the night Myrian had escaped. Huldain went over to the chains that lay strewn across the cell''s floor and picked them up. Running his hands over the white and gold metal he felt the single chink where something had hit it. He stood up and dropped the chains upon the ground behind him, and turned to Olaf.

    "He used a small piece of the same metal to open the locks. My guess is that someone slipped it in through the food tray. He shouldn¡¯t have been able to chip off any from these chains. Let¡¯s have a look at the weapons lockup and see how he got his bow."

    Olaf and Huldain left the cell and strode out with a purposeful pace, aware that time was dwindling. They traced Myrian''s steps, and found themselves outside the weapon''s compound.

    Myrian''s bow had been left in a metal box of the same white and gold steel as his chains. Huldain inspected this as he had done the chains and frowned.

    Olaf looked at his brother with a worried expression. "What is it?"

    Huldain lifted up the box. "This was not forced open. Someone used the key."

    Olaf shrugged. "So what? Myrian must have taken it from the guards."

    Huldain shook his head, and put the box down with a thud. "The key has been in my workshop ever since we built this place. No one knew of its whereabouts."

    Olaf gave a low growl, anger seeping from him as his tattoos flared. Someone had aided Myrian in his escape.

    They left the prison, realizing that time had almost ran out. They made their way up to the ground floor, and took a cart to the southern gate, here they saw Orei, Alun, and Marius waiting for them; sat about next to their packs and the supplies that Saurin had left them. Olaf walked over to them, and slumped next to Marius still brooding about what he and Huldain had found in the prison. He let out a long sigh and pulled out his pipe, closing his eyes in thought as he lit it and allowed the smoke to drift across the courtyard. Huldain had gone over to the barracks to secure some horses for them to take into Alturine.

    Orei yawned, and looked over to Olaf. "How long does it take to get to civilization in Alturine? I have never taken the southern gate before."

    Olaf opened one of his eyes. "The nearest town is called Cornerstone, and that is a full three day¡¯s hike on foot. We should be able to half that time on horses. From there, we shall investigate, see if there are any signs of Myrian. If there are, we shall follow them; if there are not, we shall wait."

    Orei nodded and flicked some dirt off of her breastplate. Luther appeared at this moment, clothed in his Dwarven jacket and boots, complete with leather padded trousers, and cotton shirt ¨C identical to Alun. Marius looked up from oiling his blades and smiled.

    Beckoning Luther over to them, he turned to the others. "Our scholar has finally arrived."

    Huldain arrived shortly after with Saurin, five horses, and a pony for Orei, who didn''t look too impressed by any of their steeds at all.

    The companions and the Dwarven stable hands saddled and packed the horses, then bid their farewells to Saurin. He embraced each of them individually, and wished them all luck before they mounted. Orei was clearly not adept at equestrian activities. She hopped about as the pony began to walk off, her foot in one stirrup, the other thumping against the floor in a desperate attempt to gather balance and jump into her saddle. Alun turned, and burst into laughter as he saw his friend¡¯s red face bobbing up and down. Eventually, a stable hand ran over to the pony and held it for Orei as she pulled himself up and over into the saddle. Just as Olaf quietly directed Marius in the basics of horsemanship.

    Saurin waved to them as the southern golden gates of Doflhiem opened. The six of them turned, and headed out into the thirteenth kingdom: The Empire of Alturine.

 Chapter 23:

    hey rode in single file; Olaf at the front on a white charger, and Huldain bringing up the rear on a palomino. Orei still struggled in her saddle, and cursed every time the horses went too fast, causing her short pony to trot or canter to keep up with its long legged friends. The ravine''s walls began to open up, and Alun, Marius, and Orei stared in awe at the ruins that they found in the entrance. They entered the throne room, and looked about them, transfixed on what they saw.

    Just then, a thought occurred to Marius; Luther looked around as if he expected everything that came before him, whilst Huldain and Olaf seemed sad and almost depressed by the sight. Marius turned to Olaf, feeling more comfortable asking him questions than the fidgety, twitching Luther.

    "Olaf, why is the entrance in the throne room?"

    Olaf looked across at his student, and smiled sadly. "It¡¯s actually an exit, Marius. This was once the capital of a kingdom called Fanir. Their people believed that the king''s responsibility was to his people, so they built an escape route behind the throne for times of crisis. The people would flee for safety behind their king whilst he stood in their defence against his enemies."

    Marius looked about him at the ruin. He felt sadness fall about him as he thought of such a proud civilization now lost to the empire.

    They rode out from the ruin, and looked out at Alturine. Luther had once thought the empire was faultless; he saw all the good and none of the bad. But the more he saw of Doflhiem and the more he heard about the outside world from his friends, the more he saw the cracks within the marble.

    Alun took in the sweeping landscape before them: the vineyards and the green fields, the perfect surroundings of a distant Cornerstone, and then he saw the town itself. Its white washed buildings and halls seemed idyllic, and it shone out. A river snaked around it and off into the sea, powering mills and forges which puffed out dark smoke which blued the surrounding hills. A train track struck off, straight across the farmlands and off into the distance heading towards the Alturine Capitol. Pine forests, mingled with maples and oak, lay below them, covering the foothills of the intersection between the Dragon Fang and Mjolik Fjord mountains.

    The companions gathered together and set off down the slopes of the ancient Fanir keep, and out into the civilized clutches of Alturine. The lower down the slopes they rode, the thinner the forest became. It was past midday by now, and the light was shadowed beneath the old pines; Olaf and Huldain were amused and seemed in cheerful spirits as they passed beneath the branches. They smiled and whistled together, making the whole group cheer up out of their dark thoughts and worries since the ruined keep.

    Marius knew that Fanir did not fall without a fight; he saw the scorch marks, the scrapes and chunks taken out of the walls. He and his brother were brought up to believe that the Alturine Inquisition was a peaceful takeover, that the story of all Alturine citizens was truth. The three kingdoms that made up the empire mutually agreed to form under Elduin and praise him as their only god, which meant that all others must be cast aside, and in their unity they would find strength and peace. But these were all lies. What they had won in industry they had lost in identity, in tradition, and in honour.

    Suddenly, laughter sifted through the trees. Olaf pulled up and sniffed the air. He dropped lightly off from his mount, and bent low to the ground, still sniffing. His eyes narrowed, and he started to follow a straight path through the trees until the group came to a small hut where two children played. Olaf stopped beside a tree, and looked down at the floor. A small, damp and crinkled piece of parchment lay beside the roots of a pine, and Olaf frowned, bending down to pick it up. His cheerful mood had left the moment he had begun sniffing, but now it was if he had seen a ghost.

    With a shaking, wrathful look, he passed the parchment to Huldain. It was clearly addressed to Myrian, and both Olaf and Huldain recognized the hand writing.

    Orei pulled up beside them, still shorter on her pony then either Huldain or Olaf, who stood above even Marius, Alun, and Luther still on their horses. Huldain passed her the parchment, and Alun frowned, wondering what was so wrong that none of them had decided to speak yet. Orei went white when she saw the note; she too knew who Myrian''s helper was, given away by the S.

    Orei cried out, causing the children to stop with their games and stare at the strange travellers; they ran inside to alert their mother. Olaf instantly swung onto his horse, and Huldain followed.

    Olaf turned to the others and said, "Myrian passed through here. He stopped for a moment beside this tree, but now has headed off towards a road not too far from this place. No one must know where we came from, so let us flee before anyone else spots us."

    With that, he cantered off into the forest with Huldain hot on his heels. Orei cursed, and spurred her pony on, willing for it to keep up with its larger kin. Alun, Marius, and Luther watched them go in confusion, and then snapped into action, kicking their horses on. The children''s mother came to the door just in time to see these three men ride off into the trees.

    Marius had caught up to his teacher, struggling slightly with his reigns and pace of the horse. Beside him, Luther and Alun cantered on, still confused about what was happening. Orei''s pony strained to keep up, its little legs struggling to match the measured pace of its friends. It had never been pushed this hard before, and it wasn''t appreciating it.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    Suddenly, the forest stopped. The trees fell away without warning, and the six companions came skidding to a halt on a long straight road that lead, according to Olaf, to Cornerstone. Their steeds panted and gasped for air, especially Orei''s pony which seemed seconds away from collapsing. Again, Olaf jumped from his charger, and again he sniffed the air.

    Alun turned to Huldain, confused by this odd behaviour. "What is Olaf doing?"

    Huldain looked at Alun. Still shaken by deep emotion, he seemed off colour ¨C in fact, he was furious. His tattoos pulsed with power, and his axe vibrated with blood thirst. Orei seemed to match this mood. Her small hands wrung her reins together showing white knuckles beneath her steel bracers, and her face flushed angrily, speckled by tears.

    Huldain managed to overcome his anger, however, and explained Olaf''s actions. "He is tracking Myrian," he said. "We can sense the power of each other. Olaf was always closer to Myrian than I, therefore he is the better man for the job."

    Alun watched Olaf whilst Marius pulled up beside him, and turned to regard Huldain for a moment.

    "Would any of you mind sharing what is on that parchment you found back there?¡± He said. ¡°Clearly it was something important."

    Huldain nodded slowly, reigning in his anger. He coughed once, loudly and then spoke. "In Doflhiem, Olaf and myself investigated the Hanging Block, as you know, to find any clues to how Myrian escaped. We found that someone had unlocked his weapon and smuggled him in a piece of rare metal that I used to forge his chains. He picked his chains with that, and escaped via a hidden door. That parchment was a note written to Myrian by his helper, signed with an S; Orei, Olaf, and myself all recognized the hand writing."

    Marius waited for Huldain to control himself. Clearly he was struggling, but Alun let impatience get the better of him. "Well, who was it? Who helped Myrian escape?"

    Orei moved up with her friends, clearly distressed and angered by the answer. "It was Saurin, Alun, my mentor and master of the Western Gate. He is the guilty party."

    Alun stared in horror. Marius now understood why Olaf, Huldain, and Orei had been so shocked by the parchment ¨C Saurin had betrayed them all.

    Olaf called out to the others, snapping them into action. "This way all of you. He walked this way."

    Olaf started to jog, pulling his horse along after him. His friends did the same, thinking it best to give their horses a rest. They continued on at a dogged pace; Orei puffed loudly, and Luther had given up all together. Getting back on his horse, he followed his companions, and after a while, the others came. Olaf began to track from his charger¡¯s back.

    As the sun set, giving way to a starry sky, a small guard house could be seen ¨C a way house point for patrols and road maintenance. Olaf put up his hand, halting the others, and dismounted. Handing his reigns to Huldain, he drew his sword, and carefully proceeded towards the barracks. His tattoos glowed brightly in the dark, as did the runes which swirled across his blade. His over coat flared out behind him as he walked, and his lion headed pauldron glittered beneath the sky. He tapped the door with his foot, allowing it to swing open, and then proceeded inside. Seconds later, he came back out, his sword sheathed, and a worried look on his face. He looked up to his brother, and shook his head.

    Huldain sighed, and dismounted, followed by Orei, Alun, and Marius. They tied up their horses on a pole outside the guard house, and entered. Guards lay everywhere, and dried blood splattered the walls. Most of them seemed surprised, whilst others lay with a look of horror plastered across their dead faces. All had their throats torn from their necks. The occasional corpse had a hole in their chest, displaying an open cavity devoid of a heart, whilst others had burn marks across a perfectly slit throat.

    Huldain looked at Olaf and sighed. Olaf leant against the door frame looking around at the massacre.

    ¡°It would seem that the note was speaking the truth then. Myrian has indeed re-forged his bow," Olaf said.

    The five of them walked back out into the night; Luther had been feeding the horses, not wanting to see the death.

    Huldain went over to him and patted him on the back. "Luther, I''m going to need you to go and do something for me."

    Luther looked worried, but swallowed his fear and nodded. "What is it you want me to do?"

    Huldain gave him a kind smile, and said, "I''m going to need you and Orei to go and speak with the king. Tell him about Saurin, and make sure he takes him into custody. I also need you to tell him that Myrian has had his bow re-forged. He will know what to do with this information."

    Orei looked up at the mention of her name and frowned. "I''m not coming with you?"

    Olaf shook his head. "No, Orei. You and Luther must see your father and explain to him the betrayal. If you don''t, we may all be in danger."

    Orei nodded, understanding what she must do. She turned to Alun and smiled. "I guess this is farewell then, my friend. I will see you soon."

    Alun nodded, surprised at the sudden split in the group. "Until then, princess."

    Orei smiled, and then turned to Marius. "Look after your brother, swordsman, and maybe teach him a few tricks ¨C he will need them."

    Finally, Orei regarded Huldain and Olaf. With a simple salute, she turned, and with the help of Luther, mounted her pony. With one last wave from the both of them, Orei and Luther rode off into the night. Tracing back through the forest on the trail they had come, towards Doflhiem they rode.

    Alun sighed, sad in the absence of his friends. He looked over to Marius who offered him a smile, and together they mounted up and waited for Olaf and Huldain to move out in pursuit of Myrian. The night passed by, and Alun began to feel exhaustion set in. It had been two days with no sleep since the Dreagul attack, and it was beginning to wear down on him. He could see the same signs in his brother, too. Even Olaf and Huldain seemed sluggish in their movement. Caught between fear, worry, and sleep deprivation, Alun pulled up his horse. Olaf, Huldain and Marius turned around and stared at him, wondering what he was doing.

    Alun pointed at a patch of grass beside the road, and said, "Look, I can see it in all of you and I know that I, myself, am falling from my horse. We have not had a proper sleep since Trystem. If Myrian is in Cornerstone or close by, he has had the past seven to eight days to rest up and recover. We need to rest."

    Olaf nodded. "The lad has a point. Alright, let¡¯s have a few hours shut-eye before we start out again."

    With that, he slid off from his horse and pulled out his pipe. Alun almost fell off his own horse, and fumbled as he tied it up. He did not need a sleeping mat, as he found a soft patch of grass and laid out, stretching out the soreness he had accrued from riding over rough country. Marius laid out his own bed mat, and wrapping his coat around him, he closed his eyes and cradled his blades. Huldain simply wrapped his own cloak around him and fell asleep, whilst Olaf sat up smoking his pipe until it was finished. Then he packed it away, and leant against a tree, lightly dozing.

 Chapter 24

    Orei and Luther continued on in the dark. Loud howls started up, and Luther looked about, frightened by the shadows. Determination alone drove him on. The trees were thickening, and Orei tried hard to concentrate on where they were going. The howls grew louder, and Orei felt her heart lift as the ground steepened. She looked back at Luther and beckoned him on, but still the howls came closer. Orei felt as if they were breathing down her neck, and she spurred her pony on feeling fear grip her.

    These were not the same wargs that hounded her in Stonehill ¨C these were different.

    Suddenly, a huge roar shook the landscape. Orei''s pony reared, sending her falling back onto the forest floor. It bolted off into the undergrowth, ears back, and nostrils flared carrying away Orei''s priceless axes and rifle. She picked herself up, just as Luther managed to reign his own horse in and under control. He offered out a hand to Orei, who was staring into the darkness after her axes in despair.

    Luther grabbed Orei by the shoulder, and slapped her gently across the face. Orei looked up, furious at such a gesture. Again, Luther offered his hand, and as the ground shook from the footfalls of some giant monster, Orei took it and was dragged onto the back of Luther''s horse. Luther spurred his horse on and charged up the hill, hoping against all hope that this was the right direction.

    As the trees cleared and the starlight shone upon the ground, Luther''s heart leaped as he saw the ruined remains of Fanir''s Keep. He kicked his horse on faster than ever, hoping that they would make it up the mountain and into the destroyed halls of the castle. Orei looked behind them, and fear gripped her harder as she saw trees being pushed aside and falling down in the path of whatever chased them.

    They continued on; the horse¡¯s hooves clattered against the cracked flagstones of a forgotten courtyard, and another roar shook the ground beneath them. Luther''s horse bolted, terrified, with Luther and Orei hanging on for dear life upon its back. By now, the giant monster had cleared the trees, and Luther glanced behind him and over Orei to see their predator''s face. A huge bear galloped after them, larger than any other he had ever read or heard of before.

    It had a peculiar face: large eyebrows shot out either side, wispy in the wind around them, and a long, thick furry tail stretched out behind it, balancing its thundering run like a cat¡¯s. Luther looked forward again, trying to pretend what he just saw wasn''t real, but another roar shook his delusions aside. They had entered the castle now, and the clickety clack of hooves seemed insignificant compared to the resounding footfalls of their pursuer. Luther had no control over the horse now; he simply hung on tightly, and hoped that Orei would not fall off and be trampled by the giant bear.

    They charged into the throne room, and Luther felt sure the beast would slow down, but the thunderous crack of crushed stone proved him wrong. At this point, it was Orei''s turn to see the bear. Her eyes opened wide at the sight, and she saw the massive creature tear apart the thick stone walls without pause. Their horse flew past the throne and into the ravine leading to the southern gate. This slowed the beast down, and it sniffed the air cautiously. It continued on after its prey gingerly.

    Orei looked down at Luther''s saddle bags, and undid the clasp hoping to find something useful within. Rations upon rations lined the bags, which Orei threw away behind her. Canisters lay at the bottom, snuggled nicely next to two flares, and Orei smiled. She pulled out three canisters, and wrapped them together with their own wire. She attached a flare to the top, and pulled its firing mechanism. Red fire shot out the top, burning down into the sulphur infused explosives. She looked down at it for a moment with pride, and then let it drop behind them, right into the beast''s path. It bounced once, twice, before it skittered across the ground a third time, and the flare burned down to the canisters, setting alight the black powder and sulphur.

    A cloud of yellow smoke bloomed up in front of the beast, filling its face with the smelly concoction. It shook its head fiercely, and gave a mighty roar which echoed through the ravine around them. Luther''s horse carried on, fear still its main motivator. Orei looked back at the beast and smiled with satisfaction. It threw its head about wildly trying to clear its head of the gas. When he looked forward again, Orei could see the golden gates of Doflhiem closing in. Finally, the clatter of hooves skidded to a halt as Luther and Orei jumped from their horse''s back.

    Orei ran to the gate with Luther behind her. Continuously looking behind at the giant bear, she came to a small section in the gate. It was carved, like the rest, however this small section seemed to resemble a door. Orei went up to the door, and pulled down on a small axe engraved into a vast mural. To Luther''s surprise, the axe moved, and the small door slid back into the huge gilded gate.

    Orei looked up at Luther and smiled. "That was close," she said, then pointed to the door. "This is a secret Dwarven escape hatch. It ensures we enter Doflhiem covertly. We¡¯ll need to grab you a cloak to hide in."

    Orei pulled her own hood up over her head, and wrapped the cloak about her, shielding herself from any unfriendly eyes. They passed through the doorway, and found themselves in the courtyard of the southern gate where they had mounted up and left earlier that day. Orei snuck out into the shadows, and skirted around the courtyard. Checking the coast was clear, she beckoned over to Luther, who was still waiting in the doorway. Luther ran over to Orei, furtively looking about as he did so. Supply crates lay outside the barracks which sat on one side of the courtyard. Orei went over and rummaged through the crates, hoping to find a cloak or at least a disguise in which Luther could hide in.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    Her hands gripped some soft material in the darkness, and she pulled, feeling triumph grip her as she handed Luther a dark cloak. Luther threw it around his shoulders, then looked down and groaned; the cloak ended at his knees. Orei looked at it in silent defeat, and Luther tried to pull the cloak down, but only managed to choke himself via the clasp, fastened across his neck. Giving in, he flipped the hood over his head, and pushed Orei on towards the cart station in a vain hope that no one would see him. Orei searched desperately for a cart, and found that luck was on their side.

    As they searched the station, the last platform gave them transport. Orei jumped into the driving seat, and Luther hopped in beside him, nervously checking each strap before clipping them together. The cart began to roll as Luther covered his eyes with the goggles.

    The cart zoomed, faster than ever as Orei pushed the cart to its absolute maximum. Luther had not felt the need to meditate in a long while; even the giant bear had not wrung this much stress out of him. He closed his eyes and clamped his fingers onto the seat. He felt the twisting pulls and throws of the cart, but began to relax as he felt the warm air of Doflhiem begin to buffet against his face; they were close.

    They hit a straight stretch of track, and Luther opened his eyes just enough to see the station in the distance. Orei began to slow the cart down, and by the time they hit the platform, Orei had pulled up with a well-timed stop. Luther jumped from the cart, and threw off his goggles, glad to be out of the wretched contraption. He pulled his hood over his face after the wind had pulled it off, and looked over at Orei making sure his companion was alright. Orei had already started moving anxiously through the crowd, cautiously looked about for any signs of Saurin. Luther scuttled along after him, stooping slightly trying to make his short cloak less obvious.

    They joined the crowd, and let it carry them across a bridge and closer to the lifts. Guards lined the streets of the ground floor, and Orei frowned at this unusual behaviour. They normally kept to the military quarters and outer mines, but now they seemed to all have been recalled. Their presence made Orei uneasy; she pulled her hood further over her head, and made her way over to the lifts. Luther sank further than ever now, hoping that the cloak would cover his peculiar posture. They found a spare lift, and together they descended onto the palatial tier. More guards stood at attention on this tier, and Orei sighed, yet again in defeat.

    Both scholars and politicians strode about busily across the grand courtyards of the king¡¯s palace. Orei and Luther walked out boldly towards the throne room, hoping that if they looked busy, no one would interrupt them. Orei strode across the courtyard, and climbed the steps of her father''s house. Two great statues of Orlin and Nurlin stood either side of the doorway into the palace, and the golden doors of the throne room stood open; an invitation to whomever seeks the king''s council.

    The room itself was massive, and the throne was its equal. Huge pillars riddled with veins of rare ore held up a vast, intricately arched ceiling. A red rug, woven with golden wire, ran through the centre of the room and ended at the king''s feet. The throne he sat on was forged from the highest quality gold, and it stretched high up the wall behind it. Small figures were carved along its back and led down to the king.

    Orei''s father, Luther had to admit, was a striking king. He wore golden armour to match his throne, and his crown was magnificent; a golden helm entwined with platinum runes and a large ruby to match the robes he wore beneath his armour, the colours of Doflhiem: gold and red. His great hammer, the hammer of the king forged by Nurlin for his brother to both protect and build, said to be a match in his forging of Mjolnir. Its name was Mjolik, after the fjords they lost.

    The king stood in astonishment at the sight of his daughter and a large smile stretched underneath his greying red beard. He called out across the hall, "Does my own daughter see it fit to grant an audience with her father?"

    Orei bowed, and gestured for Luther to do the same. The pair of them walked up to the king and stood before him.

    "I bring greetings, father, from Olaf and Huldain, the ancient heroes of old."

    The king looked disappointed by this, and sat back down upon his throne. "I am aware of Olaf and Huldain, daughter, what do they want with you?"

    Orei sighed, and looked at her father with pained eyes. "They told me to give you news, father, of a betrayer in our midst ¨C the one who released Myrian from his prison."

    The king seemed shocked by this, and frowned. "Who is it, girl? Who released the Fallen One?"

    Orei''s head fell as she spoke the name, and the king stared at her for a moment, trying to comprehend it. Saurin was one of the most respected Dwarves in Doflhiem. He had fought with his brother Durie against the dragon to reclaim Nordlhiem, and now his son and the two most famous heroes ever to walk the land had told him his most trusted friend was a betrayer.

    The king looked at his daughter. "Are you sure?"

    Orei nodded, pain clearly etched into her face from the truth.

    The king nodded in turn. "Very well then. GUARDS!"

    A small detail of guards marched into the throne room and formed rank behind Luther and Orei. No one reported in front of the king, and Orei''s father frowned. He stood up, and out of the shadows, Saurin appeared from behind the throne. He produced a knife, shimmering in the darkness, and stabbed the king in the back of his neck. Orei cried out, and started to run up the steps, but as she did, the guards grabbed her and Luther, pushing them to their knees and cuffing their hands behind their back. The king looked startled as tried to turn, but blood dribbled from his mouth, and he fell to his knees.

    Saurin shook his head sadly, and looked down at Orei, who had tears running down her face. "I wish you hadn''t told him that, dear girl. He could have lived."

    The king fell forward, and his crown fell with him, landing sideways in the king''s pooling blood, it rolled down the stone steps with a resounding chink as it bounced from step to step. Then it came to a stop before Orei, and she started to scream out again, but a loud thunk from a guard''s baton sent her into an unconscious silence.

    Luther watched, horrified at the events before him, and then saw nothing as a bag was pulled over his head.

 Chapter 25:

    Marius opened his eyes and looked across at his brother. Alun woke up damp, cursing the dew as he got to his feet, and stretched out the cricks that had formed during the night. A series of cracks seemed to bring release, and Huldain chuckled from across the patch of grass at Alun''s discomfort.

    "You¡¯ll regret that when you start riding."

    Huldain and Olaf had woken up before the two brothers, and were packed and ready to go. Marius rolled up his sleeping mat and strapped on his blades. Now ready, he packed his mat onto his horse, and cautiously mounted into the saddle. Alun walked stiffly over to his own horse, and clambered up into his own saddle to the amusement of the other three. Now all mounted, the four companions set off down the road to Cornerstone.

    Unlike Vakringuardian towns, very few of Alturine''s townships had walls defending their people. The Inquisition had banned their construction, believing that they were too costly to maintain, that and no one could come over the mountains to invade. Cornerstone was no exception to this rule; it sprawled out next to a tendril of the Mother-locke, the very same that passed by Stonehill. Its quaint and idyllic surroundings of orchards, fields, and vineyards painted the countryside with a cheery scene in all seasons.

    Marius, Olaf, Alun, and Huldain rode through these surroundings, leaving the rugged wild behind them. The pine forest had fallen away and turned into plantations of purposely planted timber. Lumberjacks worked hard, chopping and sawing down trees, feeding Cornerstone with fresh wood for its forges and fires. The town itself came into view alongside the road, and the four companions began to see more people walking beside them. The citizens of Cornerstone eyed them wearily, and it took Alun and Marius a while to realize how much they had changed; they were no longer people of Alturine. Marius''s blades glinted in the morning sunlight, and he kept his hand on the longsword at his waist. He felt more uneasy here than he had in either Trystem or Doflhiem.

    They entered the town two by two: Marius and Olaf at the front, Huldain with Alun at the back. They looked around cautiously, and made for the first inn they could find. The inn they found sat opposite the town guard house, and Olaf snorted at the irony. As always, the guards of southern Alturine were fat, and sat outside their barracks watching for any signs of trouble to avoid. Their badges held their belts in place and their trousers up.

    Olaf, Marius, Alun, and Huldain pulled up at the inn and dismounted, tying up their mounts outside. Olaf went in first; the differences between Alturine and the northern kingdoms continued as he crossed the threshold. Polished floorboards and a soft carpet decorated the floor, whilst wood panelling, although similar to Trystem, was augmented with decorative wall paper. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and a small fireplace sat as a centrepiece in the wall. Olaf made his way in further, walked up to the bar, and waited for the barkeep. At this point, a perfectly groomed man stepped out from a door next to the bar, and blanched when he saw Olaf.

    Olaf gave the man a smile, and beckoned him over. "I would like a room for the night," he said. "For four people."

    The barkeeper seemed to struggle with this request, and looked about at the other customers worriedly. He nodded ¨C just once.

    "I''ll see what I have, sir." He looked briefly down at a book and then up at Olaf. "I''m afraid not, sir, we are all booked up for the week. So sorry."

    Olaf had expected this, and nodded understandably. Then he smiled and picked up the book, flipping it around so he could read it. This seemed to distress the barkeep greatly, as he cried out in alarm, causing some other customers to look about worriedly. Olaf''s smile widened as he saw that a room labelled ''the Master¡¯s Quarters'' was in fact vacant for that night.

    He swivelled the book around, and pointed his large finger at the room, leaving a dark smudge on the page. "It appears you''ve missed one, old boy. I''ll take that one."

    The barkeep looked dejectedly at the log book, and sighed. "Very well then, sir. Here is your key; it is the last door on your left."

    Olaf smiled, and clapped the barkeep on the shoulder, knocking the wind out of him and almost sending him across the bar.

    Olaf went back outside, and beckoned to the other three, who were standing around waiting for the all clear. Together, they unhitched their packs and followed Olaf inside to their room. The Master¡¯s Quarters were a series of three bedrooms, a washroom, and a lounge joining them all together into one big apartment.

    Alun walked inside and looked around, giving a whistle of appreciation. "Well, it seems that we have moved up in the world, lads."

    He gave a joyous cry as he entered one of the bedrooms, and Marius walked in to see his brother rolling about on a large Ida feathered bed. Huldain and Olaf took the other two rooms, and dumped their packs inside. Olaf sniffed the air experimentally to see if Myrian was close by; sighing, he shook his head, and walked back out into the lounge.

    Huldain was sat in a leather armchair looking out of the window at the passing townsfolk. He looked up as Olaf entered, and raised his eyebrows questioningly. "Well? Is he here or not?"

    Olaf shook his head. "He definitely passed through Cornerstone, but I¡¯m not sure for how long and which way he left."The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    A knock at the door startled both of them. Marius and Alun poked their heads out of the room looking at Olaf for guidance. Keeping one hand on the sword at his back, he crept forward and opened the door slightly.

    It was the barkeep, and he was smiling. Olaf frowned and looked at him. "Can I help you?"

    The barkeep¡¯s smile grew, and he said, "Why yes, actually, you might be able to. I couldn''t help noticing that when you signed for the room, you signed under the name Olaf Mathiuson."

    Olaf nodded, confusion gripping him even more. "What of it?" He said.

    The barkeep''s face seemed to split at this as he pulled out a piece of paper. "Would you be an acquaintance of one Master Myrian?"

    Olaf nodded, curious at the sound of Myrian''s name. The barkeep handed the paper to him, and then said, "Myrian informed me that you would be passing through here, and when you did, you would settle his bill."

    Olaf looked down at the paper, and saw a running cost. He frowned for a moment, and then grabbed the barkeep and hauled him into the lounge and onto a small table in the centre of the room. The barkeep was no longer smiling. He had turned from a triumphant debt collector into a snivelling mess. He squirmed and babbled incoherently, and Huldain stood up and slapped him across the face.

    Marius and Alun watched with interest at the display as Olaf pulled the barkeep to his feet. A wet patch had formed in the man''s crotch, and started to dribble down his leg.

    Olaf looked the man straight in the eye, and said, "I am going to ask some questions about Myrian, and you are going to answer them for me. If you don''t, people will die, and you will be responsible. Now, when did Myrian leave Cornerstone?"

    Tears streamed down the barkeep''s face. He didn''t seem too well equipped for his situation, but when Huldain slammed his fist into the table, shattering it into splinters, the man fell to his knees and told Olaf everything he knew.

    "He left two days ago; he told me you would come, and to tell you he left via a carriage and took it south to the sea but he didn''t. He took the train to Alturine ¨C please don''t kill me, please!"

    Olaf patted the man on the head and looked up at the other three. "Looks like we''re going on a train ride then, lads." He looked back down at the snivelling barkeep. "When is the next train to Alturine?"

    He looked up at Olaf, still terrified, but realizing that these men would soon leave, he said, "In half an hour. It leaves via the station across the river."

    Olaf nodded, and undid his coin purse. He dropped a single golden coin on the floor, and turned to leave. Huldain got up, and followed whilst Alun called out to them.

    "What about our packs and the room?"

    Olaf stood in the doorway, and over his shoulder he said, "Leave them. We can buy food on the way and we do not need anything else."

    Marius followed without question, and Alun came last, still grumbling about leaving the soft beds behind.

    They headed out from the inn and left their horses. They walked past the guard house, but were untroubled as they continued on. People avoided them as they walked past, sheltering their children. Taking in the two hulking figures of Olaf and Huldain, the glowing tattoos, the countless scars, and the massive weapons did not seem to inspire confidence in the locals.

    The four companions crossed a bridge over the river and saw the train station. Steam poured from the black locomotive, and red carriages lined up behind it. A ticket box sat outside the station itself, and Alun stepped up to purchase them.

    "I would like four tickets, please."

    An old ticket vendor sat in his box and regarded the four of them for a moment, then nodding, he put out his hand.

    "That will be forty Altures, please."

    Alarm gripped Alun as he forgot about the currency. He fumbled about in his jacket pocket for the paper bank notes used by Alturine, but found none. Olaf stepped in and opened up another coin purse, placing four coins into the old man''s hand.

    "I trust that will cover it?" He said.

    The old man adjusted his spectacles and looked down. Biting one, he nodded, and pulled out four tickets, handing them to Olaf.

    They walked into the station, and found a porter. He showed them to their carriage and then left, leaving them to settle in. Olaf looked about, clearly uncomfortable. Huldain sat in the corner of the carriage, humming to himself, content that they were on the move, and that they were so much closer to catching Myrian.

    Marius looked at his brother, and was surprised to see fear cross his features. "What¡¯s the matter, Alun?" He asked.

    Alun licked his lips nervously, and he cleared his throat. "Let¡¯s just say that the last time I left Alturine, I did not do so in a particularly employable manner."

    Marius frowned. "What do you mean?"

    Alun closed his eyes, then opened them looking up at his brother. "I was fired, Marius. I was let go from the university because of my work. I did not know it at the time, but the Inquisition does not take kindly to papers on mythology, which I now realize is actually fact. They sent men to kill me, and set fire to my office, but I escaped, and fled to Stonehill."

    Marius frowned at the news.

    Olaf smiled and leant over, patting Alun on the shoulder. "Don¡¯t worry, lad," he said. "No one will harm you whilst we''re here, and by all accounts, you are not the same man you were before. You can protect yourself with that bang stick you''ve got there."

    Alun smiled up at Olaf, and looked down at his revolver. He gripped the handle to reassure himself ¨C he was no longer a victim.

    The train started to pulse into action, and Marius watched as the platform started to slip away. Huldain''s humming grew as the engine noise increased, and Olaf tapped along to the tune, trying to forget that they were traveling in a machine. Marius looked out of the window at the passing countryside.

    Nature had been tamed here, and it seemed strange to him that this was possible. In the northern, more rugged and wild part of the empire, where he and his brother had been raised, fields were longer, more free. Farmers in the north trimmed nature, but here they controlled it, with trees in perfect lines that bore fruit at the right time. They had orchards in the north, but they were small and rarely bore fruit. Barley fields shot by, green before the gold, swaying in the light, summery breeze. The greens were lighter here, more cheerful than their northern brothers. The greens Marius had been brought up with were always more serious, like a pine needle in comparison to an apple.

    The train continued on farther south, and the countryside became tamer. Marius had not thought that it was possible to become tamer than Cornerstone, but here great villas sat upon hills, lined with square bushes and trees looking over lines upon lines of vines, giving the rich folk of Alturine their wine.

    Finally, the Capitol itself came into view: the shining white city of Alturine. It was one of two exceptions in the whole empire to have a wall; it was white washed, and sparkled in the summer sun. The red rooves of the city were in contrast to the clean, pure white of its walls.

    Marius stared. He had never seen the Capitol before, and now seeing the majestic towers and tall buildings, he wished he could see it all.

 Chapter 26:

    The Eldar prince Eldritch looked out over the small town of Pasenholme. It was smaller than Stonehill, but this one had a direct link to the Alturine Capitol. He smiled slightly, allowing a small sense of satisfaction glimmer within him. He stood on one of the foothills of Alturine''s northern border giving him a view of the land before him. In the distance, vast keeps dominated the countryside, supposedly protecting their people from the Vakringuardian raiders. But the people of the north had not raided Alturine in centuries, and the keeps had fallen into disrepair. Eldrikch smiled at the helpless town that now stood at his feet. His dark crown glimmered maliciously in the light of the day. No walls protected the town, and no warriors stood in its defence. It sat there, ripe for the picking.

    He turned around, and looked at his army, clad in the colours of red and black, with the three lined sigil of Tiberius Reanik, a deal that he had died for. The undead within the armour stood at attention ¨C never tiring, waiting for the order to charge. Pasenholme was not surrounded by trees as Stonehill was. Flat, open ground covered the countryside for miles around, giving the people of Pasenholme a wide view of any encroaching threat.

    Eldrikch raised his hands to the sky and started chanting. A dark mist started to swirl down from the clouds, and it wrapped around Pasenholme, blinding the townsfolk, concealing them from their deaths. Eldrikch turned to his army, and dropped his hands. Serlaena stood on a hill close by with the other two Eldar, Toril and Koril, ready to unleash the wargs, and at his, command they did so.

    Excited howls sounded in the mist as the wargs descended onto the town. They sprinted across the fields on all fours, charging ahead with glee. Now, Eldrikch turned away from them and back to his undead army. He clicked his fingers, and they started to march, slow at first but then into a formation run. They were silent as they ran; only the crunch of their feet could be heard, and the green glow of their skin could be seen, shining out from the enveloping mist. Eldrikch watched his fellow Eldar turn into shadows and descend upon the mayhem, thirsty for blood and revenge.

    When he was confident no one could escape, he lifted his arms and dispersed the fog to show his butchery in full glory. Men, women and children ran through the streets screaming; others were dragged out of their homes by the undead.

    It had taken years of planning to start his invasion. He had first bargained with Tiberius, a weak and corruptible man ¨C easy to manipulate ¨C and it had not taken long before he had the outfits, then all he needed was the army, which he found in Stonehill. Now, two months later, he stood upon victory, he would turn Alturine against the Vakringuardian Kingdoms and gloat in their war. Then, when they were weak and wounded, he would strike, taking revenge for his people.

    He descended upon Pasenholme now, eager to be part of the bloodshed. Screams echoed around. The muddy streets had turned into a marsh, awash in blood. Townspeople ran towards the train station, some stuck in the bloody marsh, whilst others were picked off by wargs, all the while being hounded by the dark shadows of the Eldar ¨C herded like cattle.

    Eldrikch smiled at the slaughter, soaking it in. A woman ran out from a nearby shop, and fell into his embrace, trying to find some protection from the monsters that chased her. Eldrikch laughed, pulled back her head, and ripped out her throat with his teeth, savouring the taste of mortal blood.

    Suddenly, out of an alley, burning arrows plastered a small detachment of his undead. Eldrikch jumped up from the streets, and landed on a roof above the alley. Wargs lay moaning in pain from arrows protruding from their necks and stomachs. Their blood pooled around, and dripped into the gutters. Eldrikch frowned, angered by the death of his pets. He looked over the alley''s edge to see the townsfolk standing between a blind alley wall and a hastily built barricade. Hunters stood at the front, shooting flaming arrows at anything that moved, whilst guards stood behind, protecting them against the wargs that fell from the roof. Clearly these were better trained than the ones that had defended in Stonehill.

    Eldrikch smiled as he realized this was his chance to wreak havoc. He dropped down, and landed in between both the hunters and guards. Arrows fired at him, but fizzled out and turned into shadows. Eldrikch opened his hands, and the shadows turned into two large fiery glaives. He pounced; spinning around, he sliced through three guards, causing them to fall back in screams, clutching their wounds as shadows infected their body and made their veins turn black. He smiled as he smelled the fear wreak out from their comrades. They charged at him and he charged back, decapitating a man, then kicking the head into another guard, making it explode, blowing a hole in his belly, and throwing two others flying through the air. He weaved and sliced, ripping them all apart.

    He then turned, soaked in blood and gore. The glaives disappeared, and the hunters that were left could only stare helplessly at Eldrikch. He clicked his fingers, and wargs jumped upon the hunters, ripping them into shreds. Now, defenceless without their guards, the undead piled over the barricade and joined in the fray, butchering the survivors with their rusty blades.

    Eldrikch jumped up onto the roof again, and watched with a bird''s eye view, his destruction taking place. The arrows from the hunters had set the thatch roofs alight, and a large fire blazed through the town. Eldrikch liked fire; men had always used it to protect themselves, but with enough of it, Eldrikch could wipe out a whole kingdom.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    He came to the end of the thatched roofs, and let himself fall, feeling his bare feet touch the freezing cobblestones of the locomotive station. This was why he was here; a direct line straight into the heart of the empire. People had piled aboard the train, hoping to gain a quick exit from Pasenholme, hoping to escape the carnage. The train''s engineer piled up the furnace, and pulled off the brakes, making the locomotive pulse into action and make a bid for freedom. But the train did not move. Eldrikch held up his hand, preventing the locomotive from leaving. Wargs lined the platform, nipping at anyone who tried to escape, but refrained from slaughtering the passengers on board.

    Eldrikch smiled at the crunching footfalls of his painted dead as they marched up behind him. They entered the train and commenced slaughter, cutting through all of the hopeful survivors. The three other Eldar appeared behind him and watched, relishing in the screams as the windows were sprayed with blood. The engineer was last, ran through by a large sword, and then with the final survivor dead, the undead aboard collapsed, becoming inanimate once more. Eldrikch dropped his hand, and the train pulsed into motion, carrying the dead ¨C both the innocent and the damned ¨C into the heart of the Empire.

    Eldrikch moved back from the station, and regarded his fellow Eldar. He passed them, and walked through the carnage, a small smile upon his face. The other Eldar followed, eager to see what would happen next. Eldrikch walked upon the remaining wooden planks, placed there to keep pedestrians from being sucked into the sticky mud. Corpses lined the streets, mostly submerged in the bloody marsh that had been created. Weak moans could be heard as the last remaining mortal souls of Pasenholme clung to life. Some tried to struggle against the mud, but were instantly pounced upon by wargs, and their moans turned into screams. The crunching and tearing sound of bones and flesh began to echo through the town as the wargs had stopped playing with their food, and finally settled down to eat. Eldrikch came to the end of Pasenholme, and saw the remaining undead standing in files and ranks, obediently waiting for their master.

    ...

    Myrian stood outside the wrought iron gates of the Church of Alturine. The white washed walls and shining golden roof reminded him of his chains in Doflhiem. He absently rubbed his wrists, and walked back onto the sidewalk. He had spent two days in the Capitol, plotting his revenge against the Inquisition. He had originally decided to jump in and slaughter everyone inside, but he knew that even if he succeeded with that plan, too many innocents would perish, and that thought had made him pause. He had spent the past fifteen hundred years thinking about how to destroy the Church, and now, as he stood before the gates, he found that too many people stood in his way. Myrian could be vicious, but he wasn''t heartless. After all, revenge needs passion. He walked back to his room, still brooding about how he could get past the thousands of hostages the Church held.

    It was said that Alturine was paved with gold, but as Myrian stalked its streets, he knew this to be untrue ¨C in part, anyway. Alturine was certainly one of the richest cities he had ever seen, rivalling both Doflhiem and Vakringuard High Hall in its glory, and even Lornea, the ancient city of the Eldar, seemed to lack in grandeur in comparison to Alturine. The warm twisting streets sang with culture, hanging plants filled the city with a sweet scent, and the rich inhabitants, with nothing to contend with their time, mastered the arts. Songs and rhythm flowed from the open windows, and art lay stacked and framed outside doors, ready to be sold. The chink of hammers could be heard, and instead of steel and iron, they met against chisels and stone, carving out vast commissioned sculptures.

    Myrian continued on his path, his black cloak and rusty red hair flaring out behind him in a dramatic manner. His arms swung at his side, occasionally brushing against his pistol, and he revelled in the feeling of the power surging at his fingertips. He arrived at his hotel, and looked up at it. Iron balconies hung outside the rooms giving a perfect view of the city. The white washed walls shone stark against the sun, beating off the hot southern heat. Myrian walked into the tiled lobby, smelling the sweet smell of white summer wine. He collected his key from the front desk, and trotted up the stone steps towards his room. He opened his door and breathed in the summer scent. A bottle of wine had been left in cool water on a small table in the corner of his room, and a washer stand stood in an alcove beside it. His tall windows stood open, allowing a slight breeze to pick at his white cotton curtains gracefully. A large bed was placed in the centre of the far wall, giving him a fine view of the city as he awoke. Myrian liked it here. He thought he may stay here once his work was done. Huldain had always loved Doflhiem, and Olaf had loved the north, but this was his place.

    He walked out onto his balcony, and leant against the railing. He could see far across the city and out to the Emerin Sea. He had always loved the sea, and standing here, the slight bitter aftertaste of salt lingered in his nostrils against the flavoursome delights of the city. He smiled, a rare exercise that he had just recently become reacquainted with, but then his smile fixed in place as another smell reached him. It wasn''t a smell exactly as much as it was a feeling, a presence, and sadness gripped him as he realized his brothers had arrived.

    Myrian walked back inside his room, closing the windows behind him. He pulled out his blade, forged from his immortal bow, and ran the razor edge over his skin. Blood welled at the wound as he dipped a finger into it and drew a symbol on his arm. Myrian then bound the cut with a handkerchief, and sheathed his blade. He sat down at his table and poured a glass of wine, swirling it around the glass to enhance the smell, and then breathing in the scent before sifting the liquid through his lips and onto his tongue.

    Taste was important to Myrian, almost as important as respect and honour. These two other things were what drove him, what fired his revenge. He knew things that others didn''t; he knew secrets that few others knew, and because of these things, these secrets, he was forced to act, to destroy. It had cost him much, but he was almost there.

 Chapter 27:

    Orei''s eyes opened in the dark. She winced slightly from the throbbing pain in the back of her head. A scuffling sound caused her to swing around, and as she did so, she saw the outline of Luther, sat in the corner of a dark, stone cell.

    Luther watched Orei as she pulled herself up and leant against the wall. "You¡¯re finally awake then," he croaked.

    Orei looked through the dark at her friend, and tried feeling about for an opening of some kind.

    "Where are we?" She asked, touching the walls about her.

    "Up," said Luther simply, in a matter of fact kind of voice.

    "Up?" Orei asked, confused by the word.

    "Up," Luther agreed, and then continued to explain. "After he murdered the king, Saurin and his guards took us into a secret lift which went high up into the peaks of the mountains, where tunnels and chambers had been carved out as a scouting point for warriors and rangers over the years. They also contain hidden store rooms, which I have read were used by scouts to hide beer for their long, cold shifts. I believe we are in one of these store rooms now."

    Orei felt the memories of her father''s death float back to her, and she felt rage burn within her. She looked across at Luther, tears running down her face. "Did your readings know of a way out of here?"

    Luther shook his head. "No, they did not. But I did memorize the journey in my head."

    Orei frowned. "What do you mean?"

    Luther tapped his head and smiled. "I know the way out of here. I measured all of our steps from the lift into his store room. We are not far away, but alas, the door is sealed shut, and can only be opened from the outside."

    Orei cursed, and started to feel hopeless. She had lost her father to her mentor ¨C Saurin the Betrayer would be his name. Suddenly, a grinding noise filled the small room, causing both Luther and Orei to cover their ears. Sunlight poured in, stinging Orei''s eyes, and as her vision cleared she saw the Betrayer himself standing in the doorway. His silver armour glistened in the sun, making him hard to look at, and in his hand, an ornate silver axe sparkled with him. Orei gave the axe a second look and she couldn''t believe her eyes.

    It was one of her crown prince axes, shining in the Betrayer''s hands. Orei tried to comprehend how it had got there.

    Saurin gave a cheery smile to his two prisoners. "Hello, friends," he said, and looked at Orei and then down at the axe in his own hands. "Oh, I am sure you are wondering how this came into my possession."

    Orei''s eyes narrowed as she thought of the likelihood of surviving a charge at Saurin who was continuing.

    "It¡¯s quite strange actually. A scout of mine was scanning the forest when he saw a beor, frolicking through the trees. It seemed quite happy snacking on a small pony, and wouldn''t you know what he saw ¨C the crown prince''s axes, covered in blood. Of course, after the beor had done its work, nothing recognisable was left. He bore the news of the princess''s death to the southern gate with this axe as proof. The whole city is mourning you now, Orei. So sad after the death of the king."

    Orei balled her hands up into fists, and felt her rage start to boil over.

    Saurin pointed the axe at Orei and smiled. "No use in fighting me, girl. I would cleave you before you even stood up."

    Orei kept herself seated, vowing to strike when the time was right. But for now, she needed clarification.

    "Why did you do it?" Orei asked. "Why did you release Myrian and kill my father? Why have you locked me away and framed my death?"

    Saurin shrugged. "It¡¯s simple," he said. "I was told to."

    Orei couldn''t believe it. "Myrian? He told you to ¨C¡±

    Saurin cut him off with a short sharp laugh. "Myrian? No, no, dear girl, this is much bigger than Myrian. My master wanted The Fallen One released so that he could destroy him, not to give him freedom."

    Orei ran this through her mind. If not Myrian then who? Maybe the Eldar that had destroyed Stonehill was in charge. Orei sighed. Her mind was working overtime, but one thing was at the front of her mind.

    "So, why did you kill my father? Why frame my death? Was that because your master told you to, or was it to hide your own crime?"

    Saurin smiled ¨C tightly this time, as if in regret. "No, Orei, I was not told to kill your father ¨C I wanted to. For too long have I lived in his shadow as a respected, but not the mostrespected dwarf. Your father has never had to work hard for anything in his life, as opposed to me who has worked hard for everything. I have earned his throne where as he has just sat upon it."

    Orei stared incredulously at her former mentor. She could not believe it, and she stood up, pointing a finger at Saurin. "That was his birth right, mybirth right! It has and never will be yours. Only the line of Orin can sit upon that throne! No one has the right, apart from us. If I am slain then my uncle Durie will come; he will claim it, and what then? Will you murder him too? It is already a coincidence that I am pronounced dead less than a day after the death of my father. The people will not tolerate it."Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

    Saurin scoffed at Durie''s name. "Durie? Your uncle, the king of Doflhiem? He is not worthy to work a forge let alone govern a kingdom. And as for the people, I have already been appointed steward of Doflhiem by the houses. All I need is the abdication and consent from your uncle, and I will be king, girl, so stop your wailing, because no one will hear you up here."

    With that, Saurin turned out from the room, and the door grated to a close behind him. Orei stood in the darkness, staring at the wall where the door had been.

    Luther cleared his throat in the dark. "Well," he said. "That was heated."

    Orei looked to the sound of his voice and sighed. Falling back onto the wall behind her, she slid down and sat on the dusty floor. No one would save them, and Orei knew that it was impossible to save themselves.

    Luther began trailing his finger through the dust to pass time, and let thoughts roll around inside his head. He got up and felt around the door, trying to find something, anything that deviated from the precise edge of the wall.

    Orei looked up at him and frowned. "What are you doing?"

    Luther continued with his frantic search, but paused to explain. "I just remembered: these store rooms sometimes had a button close to release the door in case a scout got locked in without anyone knowing. I was hoping that this one was the same."

    Orei immediately jumped up and began feeling the walls for any sign of a button or lever that would give them freedom. After what felt like hours, Luther gave a satisfied remark, and beckoned Orei over. Orei felt the surface that Luther was indicating to, and felt her heart soar as a small indent out of the straight edge was evident. She lined his finger up with the indent and pushed.

    It didn''t move.

    She jammed her finger again and again until it was scuffed and bled at the tip, but the door did not move. Orei cursed loudly in Dwarvish, and kicked the stone wall, causing sparks to flare up from her steel clad boot.

    Luther inspected the hole more closely as Orei continued to rant on, kicking the wall with sparks, briefly lighting the room. Luther saw a small rune above the opening, and smiled. Taking a deep breath, he blew into the hole. There was a loud pop, and the door slid into the room with a crashing clunk.

    Orei stared at the door for a moment, and then up at Luther who simply pointed to a rune, and said, "Air."

    Orei''s face split into a smile as he ran over to her companion and embraced him, reaching up to kiss his cheeks with joy. Then, realizing that the door would probably have alerted guards, the two of them snuck out of their hole and into the corridor outside.

    The corridor they were in had large slits peering out of a watchtower built onto one of the peaks of the Mjolik Fjords. A blizzard raged outside, explaining why their guards had not heard the thunderous bang of their door. Snow poured in, and Luther took the lead as he headed left, further into the tower. Orei followed him across, and heard Luther muttering under his breath.

    "Forty-six steps, then left, then seventy-two, then right."

    She smiled to herself. Without Luther, Orei knew she would have been a dead Dwarfess. It had been Saurin who had told Alun to take him on their quest, and now Luther would be a crucial part in his defeat.

    Orei looked up the length of the corridor and saw a guard sitting on a stool looking out at the blizzard with a large fur lined cloak wrapped about him. Orei pulled Luther up, indicating to the guard. Orei stuck to the wall, and waited for a moment before she pounced. She jumped out, and kicked the Dwarf under his chin, sending him falling back off the stool. Orei picked up the stool, and broke it over the back the guard''s head, knocking him out cold. She then stripped the guard of his cloak and weapons, and pushed him out of the slit and over the ledge. Orei looked down at the guard''s rifle, and smiled. He was glad Saurin had listened to him. She wrapped the cloak around herself, and followed Luther once more, pretending to be a guard with Luther as a prisoner. Luther continued to mutter, and Orei smiled as they passed three more guards without issue.

    Finally, they had worked themselves into the centre of the tower, and the lift lay before them. Orei looked at it for a while before she realized something was wrong: the actual lift was not there. Clearly, Saurin had ridden it down and kept it there in the event of Orei and Luther escaping. Orei cursed under her breath, and looked around, trying to figure out a way to descend down the lift shaft. She saw crates, and smiled. Orei ran over to them and opened one: filled with beer bottles. She began moving the bottles out, and hid them behind the crate before she lifted herself in. She fit, barely, and Luther helped her with the lid. Luther had found an empty crate for himself, and curled up inside, waiting for the lift to arrive.

    It was a long while before it did. Four guards came up to relieve their comrades. No one had checked on Orei and Luther''s cell yet, and Orei felt anxiety grip her as the new guards spread out along the tower. Finally, as the last guard left the room, Orei launched herself out of the crate and covered the doorway with her rifle whilst Luther struggled to untangle himself from his own hiding spot. Jumping free of the wooden box, Luther sprinted into the lift, and beckoned Orei to follow. They closed the door behind them, just as the old watch came in to go home.

    They cried out and aimed their rifles, but Orei was too fast. She fired, and three shots later, they lay dead, alerting the new watch to their position. The lift descended, and Orei panted as Luther sank to the floor next to her. A small kerosene lamp lit the lift and shaft around them, but was extinguished as a great gust of wind came from the giant expanse of the ground floor.

    Orei peered out of the lift, trying to find out where they were going to touch down, and frowned as the lift continued down yet another shaft, and sank below the ground floor, coming to a stop in a golden lined corridor. Orei opened the door, and peered around the corridor still frowning. She tapped the floor with her foot, and smelt the air.

    She turned to Luther, clearly confused. "We¡¯re in the palace," she said.

    Luther looked about, and nodded in agreement. "Yes," he said. "It is a secret escape hatch for the king. Saurin wouldn''t have been able to conceal you from all of the eyes outside the throne room, so he must have planned this all through. This must have been where he came out of when he killed your father."

    Orei''s frown furrowed, and she cautiously made her way down the gilded corridor. Voices echoed in the distance, and Orei picked up her step until she reached the corridor''s end. They were behind the golden throne, and the voices Orei had heard were louder now.

    It was Durie, talking to Saurin in angry tones.

 Chapter 28:

    Olaf stepped out of the carriage and onto the platform, breathing in the salty southern air. Huldain followed him and pulled off his cloak, sweating in the heat. Alun came off next, looking around the station furtively. Marius hopped out behind him, patting his brother on the back.

    Marius had not been to the capital before, and he frowned at the multitude of people that walked in each direction. The steam from the locomotives seemed to hide most of the crowd, but even still, Marius saw more people than he had ever experienced. Even Doflhiem was not as crowded.

    They made their way across the misted station, and were searching for the exits when suddenly a scream sounded out. Olaf immediately looked around, trying to find out where it had come from. More screams rang out, acting as a prelude to the stampeding crowd. The companions fought against the growing tide of people, but were carried out from the station, just in time to hear a cacophonous bang. The ground shook, the sound of grating metal and smashing glass filled the air, and the crowd stopped to look around; the mist had dispersed, forced out from the sheer size of the explosion.

    Olaf, Marius, Huldain, and Alun watched in a mixture of horror and amazement, as a black locomotive shot into the station without slowing. It ploughed through the platforms, and ended up crashing into the station''s tavern, leaving it a crumpled ruin. The force of it had thrown the passengers in all directions, and Olaf started to frown. He walked out from the crowd, followed by his three companions, and started to inspect the dead more closely. Great gashes and cuts, made from blades and not shattered glass, littered the bodies. The corpses appeared dead before the impact, and Olaf looked up at the carriages, seeing the red and black of the Vakringuardian kingdoms. He sighed as he spotted Trystem''s old sigil, and shook his head.

    He turned to the others and pointed. "At least we know what the Eldar got out of the bargain with Tiberius," he said.

    Huldain spat, as if a bad taste had found his mouth, and then rubbed his face. "This Eldar really wants Alturine to think the northern kingdoms are attacking."

    Olaf nodded. "It would make both states weaker, and therefore easier to invade."

    Huldain sighed. "Where did this train come from?"

    Alun looked over at the platform number and cringed ¨C platform seven. "This came from Pasenholme," he said.

    Huldain''s frown deepened. "First Stonehill and now Pasenholme. It is heading west, and if it keeps going, Altona will be next."

    Olaf closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He was running out of time.

    He opened his eyes and looked up at the others. "These people cannot see this. Clearly the Eldar wanted Alturine to see these corpses and conclude that the Vakringuardian Kingdoms are attacking. We must destroy this false evidence."

    Alun turned to look at the massive train in the middle of the platform. How could they destroy a whole train?

    Olaf turned to Marius, and said, "Marius, run towards the crowd and tell them to get back. Tell them this train is about to explode; hopefully they will listen."

    Marius did as he was told, and ran full speed at the crowd, waving his hands in desperation, crying out, "Get back, get back; it¡¯s about to blow!"

    Olaf watched him go, and as enough people were pushed back, he turned to the train and muttered under his breath. His blue tattoos pulsed brightly, and Huldain stood behind him, blocking him from the crowd''s view. A small spark flared in the contorted metal work, and as Olaf''s chanting became stronger, the spark formed into a raging fire. He allowed the fire to grow into an uncontrollable blaze before he released his influence. Marius ran back to his friends, and watched the Eldar''s work become undone.

    Alturine would mistake it for an accident. Olaf felt a little relief flow into him, and a little hope boosted his spirits. They had been just in time to save the Alturine Empire from waging an all-out war with the Vakringuardian Kingdoms.

    Huldain watched the magical fire burn, melting away the swords and armour of the false Vakringuardian raiders. He watched as the locomotive was reduced to a molten puddle, and smiled. This was a victory; they had stopped a war before it had started, and foiled the Eldar''s plans. Now all they needed to do was catch Myrian, put him back in prison, and then track down and destroy the last Eldar.

    Olaf turned away from the fire first, confident that it had done its work. He sniffed the air, and his smile grew ¨C Myrian was here. The others followed him out of the station and into the streets, marvelling at the architecture of Alturine. Even Alun who had lived here for a portion of his life still revelled in the grandeur and beauty of the Empire''s capital city. The white city walls and red cobblestones gave the city an exotic vibe. The salty air was feathered with the sweet smell of wine and flowers, and people walked around in strange frilly clothes, others waring a powdered substance upon their faces.

    Olaf and Huldain were still given odd looks, but they were less than in Cornerstone. Olaf continued to follow Myrian''s scent which led him through twisting streets and occasional back alleys.

    The Alturine Capitol was built on an incline; the poorer districts sat at the bottom closer to the walls, while the richer homes and shops stood higher up. The Church was at the uppermost point of the incline. Its golden roof shone out like a beacon across the farmlands and Emerin Sea; richness seemed to exude from it at every angle.

    Olaf climbed higher and higher, traipsing through the richer districts after Myrian''s scent. It seemed stale, as if a sweaty body had settled down and not bothered to wash. The scent led the companions past the vast church, and they looked up, past the dark iron gates. It seemed to twinkle in the sun, and Marius had passed contemplation at how men could build so high.

    The golden towers and white walls reached up into the hot southern sky. Olaf continued on, tracking his brother past the gate and down small, cultured alleyways until they reached a small, multi-storied inn. The four of them peered up at the iron railed balconies and Alun found it hard to imagine a villain such as Myrian hiding out in such a spot.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

    Olaf sighed, and looked back at his companions. "He is in here," he said. "He is above us, and waiting. Be on your guard and prepare for whatever happens. Huldain and myself will enter first; follow in after us with your weapons drawn."

    Olaf drew his sword, and Huldain followed him, axe at the ready. Marius drew Nurlin''s blade from his back, and held it in both hands. Alun un-holstered his pistol, and held it before him, shaking behind his brother. They entered into the vacant lobby, and looked around for traps. Olaf reached out with his mind, and searched for his brother.  Upon finding him, he bounded up the stairs with Huldain in tow.

    Olaf kicked down the door, and held his sword before him, expecting arrows and violence. Only instead of Myrian, an empty glass and a half bottle of wine sat on the table.

    Olaf sheathed his blade and looked around. He frowned, and turned to Huldain who was sniffing the air experimentally. They could both sense their brother''s presence, but it was trapped, as if confined to a bottle. Olaf knelt on the floor, and threw a soul searching stare across the room. A glint of red caught his eye, and he zoned in on it as a falcon zones in on a field mouse. Olaf straightened up and strode over to the crimson dot; it sat beneath the chair as if hiding.

    Olaf threw the chair across the room and peered down. He sniffed experimentally, and cursed: it was a drop of blood. Olaf scrubbed out the blood from the floor, and turned again to Huldain and the other two.

    He indicated to the clean floor where the droplet had been, and said, "He has tricked us. He has used a blood sigil to mask his presence, and made off into the city. I do not know where he is."

    Huldain felt alarm flood into him. Myrian was another step ahead of them. Their victory from a few hours before seemed to fade now in the failure of their hunt. Olaf cursed and kicked the table, sending the wine and glass smashing across the room. Alun felt a bite of relief from Myrian''s absence, but immediately replaced it with the foreboding of their missing sport. Marius simply sheathed his sword, and looked out of the open window with a confused frown.

    He pointed out at the city, and Alun looked up from the smashed wine bottle and out to where Marius was pointing. A strange thing was happening: the clouds swirled above a figure standing upon the terracotta roof of a small sculptor''s shop. The figure had in its hands a strange device that glowed with yellow light. This light seemed to pulse, gradually growing brighter. Olaf glanced up at the scene, and cried out in alarm, causing Huldain to spin around and groan at the figure of Myrian, pointing his reformed bow up at the church behind them. Olaf instantly recovered from his shock. and dived out of the window, followed by Marius who had both of his blades at the ready. They landed on a terracotta roof across the street outside, and sprinted over the tiles.

    The wind grew increasingly more hostile as Myrian continued to gather power. Olaf''s feet pounded against the rooves of the Capitol, his glistening blade crackling with power. His eyes glowed blue, and his tattoos shimmered as he ran.

    Huldain had started after them, dragging Alun behind him. Huldain''s single eye blazed brightly in the growing storm, and yellow forks of lightning struck around the companions; Huldain had to defend with his axe as Olaf continued on. Marius ducked and weaved. His swords were trailing behind him, touching lightly upon the tiles, striking up red dust which was whisked away by the violent wind.

    Olaf and Marius bounded across the rooves, closing in on Myrian. Huldain had been left behind, battling against the bolts of yellow lightening that struck down upon him. Alun cowered behind Huldain and tried to stay away from his whirling axe. Finally, Olaf reached the sculptor''s roof, and entered the spinning vortex that was the centre of the storm. Marius tried to follow, but was almost thrown off from the sheer power of the hurricane that whirled around him. He stabbed his blades into the roof, anchoring himself against the storm, and looked up to see Olaf jump at his brother, just as a blinding light lit up the sky, throwing back any shadows, and blinding all who beheld the spectacle.

    A beam of yellow light flew high over the Capitol, then fell down and gouged a huge crater in the alleyways beside the church, destroying generations of artwork. Alun peered out from behind Huldain, worried at what might have happened, and gasped at the deep, black smoking scar that now plagued the city''s features. Myrian had missed, but still had caused massive amounts of destruction upon Alturine.

    Olaf tackled his brother from the roof, and landed upon a stack of oil painted canvas, cushioning them from the hard cobblestones. Myrian recovered quickly; rolling away from his brother, he skipped onto his feet, and sprinted down the alleyway, gun in hand. Olaf got up and chased after him. Rain had begun to fall around them now, and the moisture steamed against Olaf''s tattooed skin, the glowing blue radiated from him and lit up the walls around the alley. His eyes glowed dangerously.

    Myrian cleared the alleyway, and burst out into a crowded street to the shock of bystanders. His brother was charging down the cobblestones behind him, and he turned to watch the growing blue glow. He then took aim and fired; a shot of yellow energy burst from his weapon and took away part of a small pot maker''s shop, causing rubble to cascade down upon Olaf, who dived back and watched as brick after brick fell, separating him from his brother. Myrian continued on at a run, sprinting down through the city and out into the direction of the port that led to the Emerin Sea. Marius had got off from the sculptor''s roof, and ran after Olaf eventually finding him leant against the alleyway wall beside a mountain of rubble waiting.

    He frowned at his teacher, and jumped as Huldain landed beside them with Alun over his shoulder. It took Huldain a single, one handed swing of his axe to obliterate the rubble, and Olaf was off again. His path now cleared, he smelled his brother better than ever; the blood sigil must have been rubbed off in their tumble from the roof.

    Four pairs of feet slammed against the cobblestones in pursuit of Myrian. Olaf felt the salty air become more prominent as Myrian''s presence grew stronger. The inclination of the city sped them along, as passers-by stopped and stared at the unusual spectacle of two glowing men wielding large glowing weapons sprinting past them, with another two strangely dressed men in tow.

    The great white walls of the city came closer as Myrian''s scent grew stronger, and Olaf was starting to realize his brother''s intention. The Emerin port came into view along a large bustling street, and Olaf could see Myrian''s dark figure turn into one of the mooring docks. He increased his pace, and felt his feet burn as they slapped against the hard street. He had left Huldain and the other two behind as he raced on, flying through the port''s gates and onto the wooden dock to see a large ship pulling out and getting ready to set sail. Olaf gauged the distance from his dock, and wondered if he could jump it.

    He began to run again, his stinging feet now hammering down against the wooden slats of the dock. Huldain, Marius, and Alun skidded in behind him, and watched as Olaf ran. Myrian leant out on the rigging of the ship and pointed towards Olaf, who was desperately sprinting with his sword in hand, and his coat tails streaming behind him. Another burst of yellow light cut his run short, putting a sizable hole in the jetty, and causing Olaf to trip and fall into the sea.

    Huldain cursed, and jumped forward to haul his brother out of the swirling currents. Olaf came up soaked and fuming; the combination caused steam to radiate from him and scatter all sailors in the area. Marius looked out at the disappearing ship, and sheathed his blades bitterly.

    He looked up at his seething teacher and cocked an eyebrow. "Now what?" He said.

 Chapter 29:

    "How dare you sit upon the throne of my brother!" Durie roared. His voice echoed around the hall, and his eyes glared at Saurin who was lounging about on the throne of Doflhiem. Saurin had an arrogant smirk about his bearded features as he looked down at Durie. Mjolik sat beside the throne, and the old gate keeper played about with its handle.

    Orei frowned, hiding behind the golden throne, wondering how her uncle had arrived from Trystem with such speed. Luther crouched next to her and stole a glance out at the hall. Durie was standing on the steps, holding an ornate sword at his side; his other hand was clenched in anger. Ten guards stood at attention at each pillar behind him, and Luther recognised the same colours of the western ranger''s uniform upon their chests, those same colours of which serve Saurin.

    Luther hid back behind the throne next to Orei, and listened as Durie came closer to Saurin, his rage clearly burning out of control.

    "You expect me to believe that my brother died and then the day after, my niece passes with him? No chance, Saurin. I have loved you as a brother, but I am not stupid. I will not abdicate my kin''s throne to you. You have over-reached yourself."

    Saurin couldn''t restrain himself any longer. Sharp and harsh laughter erupted from his mouth, and Durie stared at his friend in growing horror as he realised just how insane Saurin had become.

    Saurin looked over Durie''s head at the guards, and his smile faded, replaced by a mask of anger.

    He looked back down at Durie and said, "Over-reached myself? Over-reached myself? I have merely started! For too long have I sat by and watched your brother Furin destroy the Dwarven kingdoms. We captured Nordlhiem, you and me, but is it populated? No. Is it under our control? No. It sits there, and awaits another wyrm to inhabit its rich depths. Ironhiem does not even claim alliance to us, and Doflhiem is falling into disrepair. I am a king who can fix this; I can turn the Dwarven race into a proud people again."

    Durie stopped mid step. His features seemed to turn to stone, and his voice rang out with the commanding dominance bred into him by generations of governance. "But you¡¯re not king! And never shall you be king! So, leave my throne and go back to your gate. Let me mourn my kin."

    Saurin stood up from the throne and looked down at Durie. The guards that had been at attention now closed in behind him with their weapons drawn. It was Orei''s turn to look around the throne, and she felt terror grip her as she saw her uncle surrounded.

    Saurin smiled at Durie and then looked at his guards. His smile grew as he said, "I am king, Durie. The people agree with me, and you will abdicate or you will die. Either way, I win."

    Orei had had enough. She spun out from behind the throne, and took aim at the closest guard. Durie stared, dumbfounded at his dead niece¡¯s resurrection, and then ducked as shots echoed out in the throne room. Two of the ten guards lay dead before the rifle refused to fire. Orei swore as she realized she had run out of ammunition, and she charged, running full speed towards the remaining guards. The last shot had stirred Durie into action, and he spun around just as Saurin brought Mjolik down upon him.

    The two of them sparred with the speed and accuracy of veteran warriors; their weapons connected with sparks as Mjolik chipped away at Durie''s sword. At the same time, Orei and Luther had managed to wrestle weapons off the guards and fought against them. Luther wielded a small poleaxe with an academic understanding, whilst Orei jumped in the fray with a sword in one hand and an axe in the other. Orei cleaved and sliced, dispensing three guards in a series of moves, whilst Luther tried desperately to hold off another two. Durie stabbed and span, trying to catch Saurin off guard, who defended with the king''s hammer, destroying Durie''s sword with every blow. Orei stabbed one of the encroaching guards who had been trying to stab Luther, causing a fountain of blood to cascade up her arm, and Luther brought his poleaxe down upon the other, to their surprise.

    Durie was now desperately trying to defend himself against Saurin, who was crumpling his sword into a twisted mess. Orei span around, and decapitated the second to last guard with her axe, before throwing her sword into the last one''s eye socket. She then looked up to see her uncle''s sword shatter against Mjolik, and then fall against the steps. Orei took aim, and hurled her axe with all her might, watching it spin through the air. Saurin brought Mjolik down to smite Durie, but stopped as he felt an almighty pain in his arm. Mjolik dropped to the floor next to Orei, who had raced up after her axe. Saurin looked down to see a large gash just above his elbow, and watched a blood flowed from the wound.

    Orei picked up the king''s hammer, and Saurin screamed as Mjolik came flying towards his face. Orei hit Saurin with so much force that the old Dwarf flew from the steps and crashed into a pillar before he fell to the floor, dead.

    Durie stood up, and pulled Orei into a rough embrace, tears streaming down his face.

    ¡°I thought you were dead,¡± he sobbed, ¡°I thought I had lost you!¡±

    Orei rocked slightly as tears fell from her face too, ¡°I am here, uncle,¡± she said, ¡°I am alive.¡±

    Luther walked up the steps towards the two Dwarves as they released one another, and waved at Durie.

    "Hello," he said. "I''m Luther." They sat upon the steps and waited until someone realised what was going on. They leant back and looked around the throne room at the corpses that were strewn about, and took in the crazy events that had unfolded.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    Durie had felt guilt once the companions had left Trystem, and decided to take a boat to Doflhiem in pursuit. It was extremely rare to use the ancient canal to Doflhiem, and Durie had seen the Dreagul dead and floating in the waters. He had panicked, and pushed his vessel hard until he entered the underground lake and docks of Doflhiem, where he had found the Go Fast. He then had made his way to the capital to see his brother, and found Saurin on the throne instead. Orei had told him everything, and he looked down at the betrayer''s corpse, and felt a twinge of sadness at the death of his friend. Durie let it pass, and watched as the corpses were dragged away by the new palace guards. Leaders of the seven Dwarven houses were crowding around Orei, trying to decide what to do next.

    The obvious answer was that Orei was going to become Queen, but after that they did not know what to do. The king had indeed left the kingdom to fall into disrepair, but at the same time, he had given the Dwarven people peace. Orei listened to all of them as she sat on the steps, playing with Mjolik''s handle. Luther stood beside her, still with his poleaxe. He took in everything the leaders were saying, and Orei knew that he would make a fine adviser.

    Feeling herself beginning to slip into exhaustion, Orei waved away the leaders, and went over to her uncle and sat down. Durie looked at his niece, and reached his arm around her shoulders.

    "So," he said. "What¡¯s the plan?"

    Orei looked at Durie for a moment, and continued to play with her hammer. "Firstly," she said, "I am going to be crowned. Then I am going to take a small group of Dwarves to help Olaf, Huldain, Marius, and Alun to capture Myrian, and defeat this Eldar threat."

    Durie nodded; he had expected this. He looked down and thought about Doflhiem and what Saurin had said about his brother being a bad king.

    He glanced across at his niece. "What happens after the threats are contained?" He asked.

    Orei span Mjolik against the floor, listening to the steel whir against stone and thought for a moment. She had also heard what Saurin had said about her father, and thought about how she might proceed. The leaders had been saying the same things about Doflhiem and the other cities; the people wanted an empire, not a single city.

    She looked up at her uncle. "I will send envoys to Ironhiem and remind them that they are under Doflhiem''s rule, and I will also begin to populate Nordlhiem with miners and builders. With the riches from that operation, we will be able to build Doflhiem back up to its former glory."

    Durie nodded; he knew this would happen. He stood up and stretched. "Well," he said. "I have a coronation to prepare for, and I have no weapon. I will see you at the ceremony. I suggest you get ready."

    Orei nodded. and hugged her uncle once more, and then watched him push past the guards and dignitaries. Luther stood up next, and gave Orei a wink.

    "I¡¯ll see you then, too," he said with a smile, and started down the steps before Orei stopped him.

    "Wait," he said. "Luther, without you we would not be here. My uncle and myself would be dead, and Saurin would be king."

    Luther shrugged and looked up at his friend. "It was nothing, Orei. You would have done the same for me."

    Orei smiled, and patted Luther on the shoulder. "Would you stay with me and be my adviser when I become Queen?"

    Luther''s face lit up, and Orei took that as a yes. She embraced her friend, and watched him hurry off to get ready. She sat down heavily on the steps, and looked at the hammer by her side.

    He was to become Queen. She always knew she would one day, but she had hoped she had a few more centuries of freedom before the weight fell upon her. She thought about her father, and sighed. She felt regret lay down upon her as she remembered all of the times she had avoided and shirked around her father since her mother¡¯s death. She stood up, and looked around at the crowds of politicians about her. She made her way down the steps, and left the hall. People bowed as she passed them, and she felt more and more weight fall upon her shoulders as she headed towards her new home to get ready for the coronation.

    Drum beats rang out around her as she stood, feeling a bit ridiculous before the crowds of citizens that had gathered outside the palace. There had been a fanfare after Saurin had been killed, and heralds instantly sprouted on every street corner proclaiming that Orei was indeed alive and stood to be Queen. Dwarven tradition dictates that when a king dies, he is burned on a pyre just as the new monarch is crowned. King Furin, Orei''s father, lay in the main council chambers of the palace ¨C a large gilded auditorium that could house every Dwarven house.

    Orei looked around at the coat of arms of each house and let out her breath. She stood, as tall as she could and lifted Mjolik before her. Several old Dwarven council members stood next to Furin''s pyre, and Tavium, at their head, held aloft the golden crown of Doflhiem. Durie stood a little back, closer to his brother''s pyre than the others. He looked uncomfortable in formal dress, and pulled at his collar as Orei descended down the steps into the centre of the chamber. Luther sat in the front row, and Orei smiled as she passed him. Luther, who was dressed in the robes of a scholar, gave beaming smile and continued to watch in excitement.

    Orei reached the elderly council members, and sank to one knee as they began to speak in Dwarvish. They said, "We stand here this day to witness the crowning of the Dwarven peoples forty-third Queen: Orei, Daughter of Furin, blood line of Orin the first king of Dwarves, the right given to her by Oedin, protector of us all. In her father''s death, the right and weight is passed to her, to serve her people, and to protect her kingdom. Mourn the dead! Worship the Queen!"

    With the last word uttered, the crown was placed upon Orei''s head, and she rose to look out at her people. It was a custom to utter your first order as Queen at this point, and Orei drew herself up.

    "I thank you to all who support me. Together, we shall strive to bring the Dwarven race into a time of pride and importance. We will reclaim the abandoned city of Nordlhiem, we will remind Ironhiem where their loyalties lie, and we will restore Doflhiem to its rightful glory."

    This speech was met by cheers of approval. Orei allowed it to sink in before she continued.

    "The first thing I shall do, however, is restore peace to our lands. I shall personally join the ancient heroes Olaf and Huldain in their hunt for the Fallen One, and when we are done, I will defeat the Eldar that still live."

    This was met with both cheers and murmurs; evidently the Dwarven people didn''t know about the Eldar, and Orei smiled as she saw some of the houses look at her with respect to make such a claim. She would bring them honour and glory, as well as peace and prosperity. She turned to her uncle, who nodded once with approval, and then she lit her father''s pyre.

    The flames flared, and Orei sat upon a temporary throne and watched as her father was cremated into the next world. Durie sat beside her, and Luther joined them as the council chambers began to empty. Parties would cover the city tonight, and Orei made sure that the crown would pay for it.

    The key to keeping a successful kingdom was to occasionally spoil the people.

 Chapter 30:

    Marius stepped onto the strange engine powered boat and looked out at the Altona River. They had chased Myrian west along the shore of the Emerin Sea, and now they landed on the last port before a desolate landscape. The port-town was named Seaton, and Myrian had stayed long enough to destroy half of the town before boarding a steam powered river boat and heading north to Altona City. Huldain, Olaf, Alun, and Marius had boarded a similar craft, and now were setting out behind Myrian in the desperate hope to catch him before he caused more damage.

    Marius sat at the prow, and watched the water flow beneath their craft, when suddenly a thought popped into his head: he couldn''t believe he hadn''t thought of it before. He looked up at Olaf and Huldain, who were both looking anxiously up the river hoping to see their brother''s craft.

    Marius cleared his throat, and said, "Olaf."

    Olaf looked questioningly, and Marius continued. "Why don''t you just teleport us all with magic, like you did to me in Stonehill?"

    Huldain looked to his brother, alarm evident on his face. "You teleported?" He asked incredulously.

    Olaf nodded once, and then looked back at Marius. "Two reasons," he said. "Firstly, it''s extremely dangerous. You need to have the memory of the place exactly right in your head, otherwise you could be lost forever. And secondly, it takes far too much power out of me."

    Marius thought about this and then nodded, going back to watching the water trail by.

    Hours slipped by and Marius felt desperation begin to creep in. Suddenly, Alun jumped up and pointed out at a distant vessel on the water. Smoke billowed out in a thick plume as it sped up. Beyond the vessel, a large lake could be seen spread out like a gigantic mirror, and Olaf knew they would not catch Myrian before he reached the city of Altona.

    More wood was pushed into the burner, and the paddles sped up as the distance between the two boats shortened. They were racing in open water now, and the city of Altona could be seen spread out on the banks of the lake. Myrian''s boat drew closer to the docks, and Olaf, Huldain, Marius, and Alun made ready to jump onto shore as they drew closer. They were meters away now, and as the tip of Myrian''s boat touched the docks, Olaf and Huldain jumped.

    They bounded across the other boat, and spear tackled Myrian, just as he tried to jump to shore. The three of them grappled upon the docks, scaring the crowd. Myrian was quickly overcome, and Marius felt almost disappointed that their hunt ended like this. He watched as Olaf put Myrian face down, and held his arms so he could not move, whilst Huldain grabbed the weapons that made up the immortal bow from Myrian''s belt.

    ¡°Why?¡± asked Olaf, once Myrian was properly constrained. He received only a disdainful look in return. Olaf growled with frustration, clenching his fist as he took a step closer.

    Huldain gripped both of his siblings about the arm. ¡°Not in public,¡± he said, before bringing their brother up, and marching through the city with Alun and Marius in tow, heading for the city''s prison.

    Altona was a mix between Trystem and the Alturine Capitol; it had a direct trading link to the Vakringuardian kingdom of Rutchnar, and had a large supply of rich furs. The prison was situated at the top of the keep, and had high walls and towers which gave the prisoners a view of the freedom they would never have.

    This was all Alun saw of Altona: the cobblestoned main street and a few merchant shops before they were within the main keep''s walls. He saw the landscape that surrounded the city out of a barred window that gave light to the corridor Myrian was imprisoned in.

    Myrian was silent, and looked at his brothers with a strange look which seemed to flicker between hate and regret. Olaf had managed to take control of the whole prison, and now sat on one side of his brother whilst Huldain sat on the other. Marius gazed out of the window, and watched the flowing wind. He frowned at a strange cloud of fog that rolled over the fields next to the Shore of Altona Lake, and it was then that Myrian made his first sound.

    He exhaled loudly, and both Huldain and Olaf span around and stared at him, waiting for whatever would happen next.

    Myrian cleared his throat, and looked around at his captors. "You are all fools," he said, and Olaf frowned. "I am not the man you think I am. The Eldar are coming, some are near."

    Olaf stood up, and bent to look Myrian square in the face. "How do you know this?" He asked.

    Myrian opened up his mouth to the fullest extent to show the four companions a pair of prominent canines that pointed out from his mouth. He closed it, and then looked about him.

    "We are connected, the Eldar and I. We are charged by the same curse. Trust me, brothers, the Eldar are close. Four of them with an army of corruption; they do not know of their failure in Alturine, and now they seek to destroy this city. This is why I have come."

    Olaf frowned, walked over to the window and looked out. He too saw the encroaching cloud, and swore. "Alright. Alun ¨C go and tell the captain of the guard of this threat. Huldain, Marius, and myself will go out and meet them."Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    Myrian frowned. "I will fight too," he said, and Olaf shook his head.

    "No," he said. "You have caused enough damage; you will stay here."

    Myrian growled, and shook his head as Huldain chained him to the stone floor. Olaf, Huldain, and Marius set out towards the city walls, whilst Alun went to the city guards for help.

    Olaf looked out at the growing fog, and his brow furrowed as he made out the shadows of the undead beneath it, marching upon the city with a relentless pace. He made his way through the gate, followed by Marius and Huldain. He heard activity on the walls above, and saw the city watch running about, trying to get into position. Olaf looked ahead at the encroaching forces, and drew his blade. Huldain already had his axe at the ready, and Marius followed with a determined step. The crunch of the army''s footfalls could be heard against the ground, and the fog dispersed around the undead.

    Olaf could tell that his enemy realised they no longer had the element of surprise.

    ...

    Eldrikch looked out over the farmland towards Altona. He was feeling confident before, but now as he saw the shining blue and red runes of the Eldar bane, he could feel Serlaena''s and the twin¡¯s panic blossom at the sight of the axe and sword. Another figure stood between the two glowing figures, but Eldrikch was sure that this was not Myrian. He smiled; the master must have destroyed the youngest brother.

    He dispersed the fog, not seeing the point of concealment any longer. He felt Olaf bristle at the sight of his army, and Eldrikch knew he would lose his Nosaferatu and wargs. He sighed and clicked his fingers; the undead charged, silently screaming as their footfalls sped up, and the wargs darted out in front, growling and slobbering as they ran. Eldrikch watched as the twins turned into shadowy apparitions, and controlled the hairy mutants. Serlaena stuck close to Eldrikch, pacing around behind him, worried at the appearance of two of the immortal weapons.

    Huldain was the first to strike; he lifted his axe and brought it down just as he had done in Stonehill. The ground around him buckled, and the wargs that charged were knocked aside and crushed under the sheer power of his strike. Olaf was next as he jumped over the devastation, and sliced with his blade, followed by Marius. The pair of them landed in the midst of the undead ranks, and carved out a clearing with their swords.

    At this point, the twins had retreated back towards Eldrikch''s vantage point. They hid behind their prince, and watched as Huldain, Olaf and Marius picked apart their forces with ease. Eldrikch felt his rage build up, and allowed it to fuel him. Flames burst from his hands, and twisted into curved glaives as he leaped into the sky and formed into a vast shadow, followed by his three disciples.

    Myrian saw the shadows bearing down on his brothers from his cell, and looked down at his iron chains. He focused on his wrists, and felt his yellow tattoos flicker beneath the years of captivity. They flared slightly, and he looked across the room to where his weapons were held. The iron began to melt away, and Myrian stood up, rubbing his wrists absent mindedly. He walked over to his weapons and wrenched them out of their safe. He looked out at the unfolding battle, and ripped the bars from the window, jumping out into the open air. His black clothes billowed out behind him as he fell, and he watched as the rooftops of Altona came up to meet him. Myrian adjusted his angle, and slid across the slate tiles, skidding into a run as he charged for the front gate. He sprinted past Alun and the guards, and burst out from the gate just in time to see the Eldar descending. Myrian had his pistol in one hand, and his knife in the other; he pumped power into the gun and took aim. As he released, one of the shadows burst into yellow light, screaming as it fell to earth.

    Olaf looked up at the descending shadows, just as one burst into a light infused explosion. A figure fell from the sky and landed with a sickening thud next to Marius who stabbed it with his black blade. The undead had fallen now, and the wargs had deserted, running for the hills or being shot down by Alun and the city guards. Myrian had joined the fray, and instead of fighting him, Huldain and Olaf joined their brother. The three remaining shadows landed, and Marius felt rage burn within him as the Eldar that had butchered Stonehill stalked over the corpses of his fallen army.

    Flames flickered in the shape of glaives within his hands, and Marius managed to reign in his anger just enough to watch Myrian take aim at Eldrikch. Yellow light burst forth, and Eldrikch struck back with his glaives, deflecting the light, and then engaging Olaf in a series of blows, before fending off Huldain.

    Serlaena followed her master, and jumped at Marius who skilfully fought back. She studied him as they fought, and her eyes opened slightly with recognition.

    "You!" She hissed. Using this distraction to his advantage, Marius managed to catch her off guard and slice her side. She hissed and fell back, just as the other twin jumped into her space, sparring with Marius in a series of quick blows, fury and vengeance clear on his narrow face.

    Olaf span around just as Myrian lunged with his knife. Eldrikch deflected them both with flawless ease, and then kicked Huldain out of the way. Marius felt his steel long sword shatter under his grip, and readjusted his hands on Nurlin''s blade; he then sliced the twin just above his elbow.

    Blood flowed out from the wound, yet the twin fought on. Two strikes later, and another wound hit him on the thigh. He staggered back with Marius pushing on. The twin saw his end and fled, turning into a shadowy apparition before being shot down by Myrian.

    Eldrikch saw this and panicked. He pushed Huldain and Olaf back, before throwing Myrian hard across the battlefield. Eldrikch now was drained, and saw the boy from Stonehill charge at him. He retreated, grabbing Serlaena as he went. The Eldar bane were too much ¨C he had been defeated.

    Eldrikch flew off in a southern direction, and Marius, Olaf and Huldain stood panting, staring after the fleeing black smoke. Alun came down with the guards, and Myrian groaned, picking himself up just as two guards grabbed him and pushed him back down.

    Olaf turned, and saw his brother being arrested. He called out, "Leave him alone, he has information to tell us!"

    The guards stepped back, and joined Alun''s group who were checking that the dead stayed dead. Olaf and Huldain sheathed their weapons, went over to Myrian, and helped him out of the dirt. Marius picked up the shattered handle of his long sword; He looked at it and sighed. He would miss his old blade, and he would need to find another to replace it. He looked down at the two fallen Eldar and kicked the nearest to him. He sighed, and threw his old handle down, walking back over to his brother.

    Alun came up to him and smiled. "That was amazing," he said.

    Some guards around Alun looked at Marius with awe, whilst others began piling up the corpses ready to burn.

 Chapter 31:

    Orei stalked the ranks of her small force and smiled. She had hand-picked these men from the best warriors and rangers in Doflhiem. Durie and Luther walked beside her, ready for battle. Durie had his old set of armour forged from dragon scale to protect him from magic fire, and the blue scales glittered in the orange light of the southern gate. One of Huldain''s white and gold swords also sat strapped on his back.

    Luther wore his Dwarven jacket and boots, opting for the same poleaxe he had wrestled from a guard in the throne room. A revolver sat at his side, and after a few shots on the practice range, he was ready.

    The rest of Orei''s honour guard stood at attention, a rag-tag group of the best standing at twenty Dwarves strong. Ponies stood beside each guard. Orei and Durie sat at the head, with Luther bringing up the rear on the same horse he had had when fleeing from the bear. The southern gates opened, and Orei gave the command to mount up. Citizens of Doflhiem stood around the courtyard, and watched their Queen and her men ride out into battle. It was something that had not been seen since the Eldar Wars, and it brought pride to every spectator. Once the southern gate stood fully open, Orei stood in her saddle, and waved her honour guard on, signalling the start to her conquest of peace.

    Twenty-two Dwarves and one man, Orei reflected as they filed out of Fanir''s ancient ruins, were a large force to be seen. Orei wasn''t sure how the local inhabitants of Alturine would act; Luther had blatantly disbelieved their existence even in the heart of Doflhiem. Orei frowned at the thought, and Durie came up next to her. Durie had been in a cheerful mood ever since they left Doflhiem, and Orei got the impression that her uncle enjoyed adventure more than anything.

    Durie''s blue dragon scale armour glittered, and the other guards looked at it in amazement and envy. Durie saw Orei''s troubled look, and slapped her lightly on the back.

    "What is the matter, my Queen?"

    Orei felt a pang of embarrassment, although she had to admit that she did indeed look majestic. Her old armour had not been deemed Queenly enough, and the master blacksmiths of Doflhiem had worked tirelessly to produce a new suit. It was gold, which was to be expected, but everything was doubled up with white steel, founded by Nurlin and perfected by Huldain. It was light and very mobile, and it had ornate depictions of him smiting the Betrayer with Mjolik. These scenes took her breath away when she first saw them, but now she felt self-conscious. It also pinched at her left breast and she winced as she tried to loosen the straps. Dwarven smiths made magnificent armour, indeed, yet fitted it poorly to their women folk. Mjolik, the hammer of the monarch, sat at her side, and she touched its handle reassuringly.

    Orei looked over at Durie, and frowned. "I thought I told you not to call me that."

    Durie laughed at this, and then shrugged. "Well?" he said. "What is it?"

    Orei looked back at her men. They chatted amongst themselves, and Luther looked about aimlessly, taking in his surroundings. The forest had begun to envelope them now, and the sun was still rising towards midday. A sweet smell of pine and maple littered the air, and Orei tracked the forest path before he answered.

    "I have been thinking," she said. "What are the locals going to think when we rock up fully armed and ready for battle?"

    Durie smiled at the thought, and shrugged. "Who cares? Anyone with a problem won''t have one for long. We find Olaf and the others, help them out, become heroes, and then we go back home and drink away the next century."

    Orei smiled, and continued to track his way through the forest. Light began to dim out as the forest thickened, and then the sun rose high in the sky, peeling away hours as the group tracked through the forest. After a while, beams of light began to spear through the trees, and Orei found herself on the same road she had stood four days before ¨C when she was not Queen, when her father was alive, and when life was simpler.

    She sighed, and looked up and down the track before setting out with her men towards Cornerstone. Ever since she had killed Saurin, Orei felt that her life was a series of disjointed moments. She had no idea how she had travelled to Cornerstone so fast; one moment she was plodding down a road, and now she was in the centre of a town. The townspeople stared in open amazement at the group, and Orei looked around for signs of Olaf. None presented themselves until Orei entered a high class inn.

    The inn keeper took one look at Luther, Orei, and Durie and sighed with a depressive acceptance.

    Luther plucked himself up, and went over to the man, saying in his most professional voice, "Hello there, my good man. I was wondering if you have seen a large fellow with blue tattoos."

    The barkeep''s hand instantly pointed out of the window in the direction of the train station. They got the hint, and Luther led the Dwarves towards the train station, and saw to his relief a black locomotive sitting on the platform billowing smoke. Luther made his way over to the ticket box, and leant against the counter. The elderly ticket keeper looked from the Dwarves to Luther and then back again.

    Luther leant closer in and gave a large smile. "Twenty-three tickets for The Capitol."

    The elderly man paused for a moment before opening his hand for payment. Luther placed his horse¡¯s reigns in the hand, and offered another, smaller smile. "There are twenty-two more where that came from."

    The ticket keeper gave a resigned sigh and shook his head. He pulled out twenty-three tickets, and then pointed over to a holding yard behind the station.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    "Put the horses in there," he said. "The train will be leaving in five minutes."

    After grabbing their packs, the Dwarves piled into the carriages with glee. They had not seen machines like this before, and such a thing rivalled even their engineers.

    The train pulsed into motion, and a few of the honour guards hung their heads from the window like dogs, allowing their beards to stream out in the wind. Orei smiled at this, and sat down in her own cabin with Luther and Durie.

    Taking in the strange surroundings, Durie watched the passing scenery in amazement and pointed out at it to Orei. "Look," he said. "They have conquered nature more than us. We simply carve, whereas they grow and sculpt from the root."

    Luther looked out at the orchards Durie pointed at, and smiled to himself, feeling pride bloom up for his people. Vineyards streamed past, and Luther educated his friends in the crops¡¯ purpose. Time went on, and night fell, showing the traveling companions the stars. Some sang, whilst others played drinking games. By the time the Dwarves reached the Capitol, the whole train, including the Alturine locals staggered off, intoxicated by the strong Dwarven brew.

    Orei stepped off the train. thoroughly pleased by the experience, and looked about at the capital city of the southern empire. She was firstly shocked by the devastation the platform held: a large melted blob of metal still popped and cracked from a locomotive, and Orei turned to hear Luther shout out in exclamation.

    Were they too late? As Orei looked about the city, she did not doubt it. A large portion of the capital was wiped out by, from what Durie said, Myrian''s bow. After close inspection of the melted train, Orei knew that no ordinary fire had caused the train to melt, and to make things worse, the citizens talked about a vast battle which ended in all participants taking sail out to sea.

    The locals were leaving, and Orei did not know what to do next. Her friends were alone, and potentially outmatched. She did the only thing she could, and sat down and waited. Sooner or later something would happen; Olaf may turn up with Myrian, or Myrian may turn up with Olaf.

    Orei didn''t know, but as they sat there, she realized when two streaking black clouds zoomed overhead that she didn''t have to wait long.

    ...

    "It¡¯s the Inquisition." Olaf looked at Myrian with a frown. After the battle, they had retired in the guard''s quarters where Myrian explained himself. Marius, Alun, and Huldain stood behind Olaf as he questioned Myrian.

    "What do you mean, the ¡®Inquisition¡¯?" Asked Olaf wearily. He may have helped them but Myrian could be a devil to pin down.

    Myrian rolled his eyes. "The Inquisition of Alturine: The Church of Elduin, the only god the people of Alturine are allowed to worship ¨C the only god that the Eldar worship!"

    Olaf got the point, but lacked the proof. "So what? Maybe Elduin helped out a priest, and the priest started a church ¨C you know what religion can be like."

    Myrian shook his head violently. "No," he said. "I can feel it, just as I felt the Eldar today; I told you we are linked."

    Olaf frowned. Myrian was so convicted with what he was saying, the truth radiated from him.

    Olaf nodded. "Very well," he said. "I will check your mind to see if you speak the truth. If you do, we will go and destroy the Eldar once and for all. If not, then I will lock you up and never let you see the light of day ¨C understand?"

    Myrian nodded and bowed his head. Olaf was surprised by this; his brother had always been so resistant. He took Myrian''s head, and felt within his mind. He asked once more about the Inquisition, and the thoughts surfaced.

    The golden walls inside, centuries before, when the church was still new. Myrian was wearing a cloak of a priest, and descended a set of steps that led down to a sub-basement, and a vast cavern lay beneath. Something stirred, and Myrian stayed just long enough to see a stone throne and a huge white wing. Myrian fled to his brothers who pushed him away, and so much anger fizzled within him as he travelled to Lornea alone.

    The memories faded, and Olaf looked into his brother''s eyes. "I am so sorry," he said, regret bubbling up inside him. He turned to the others. "Get ready. We are heading back to the Capitol!"

    Myrian shook his head. "No," he said. "It will be too late. By the time we reach the city, Eldrikch will have already told his master about us. They will take hostages and we will be unable to stop them."

    Eldrikch. The name fizzled around Marius''s mind. He went to grip his long sword¡¯s handle, and finding it missing, he spoke up.

    "So, what do we do then?"

    Myrian looked up at him and then to his brothers. "We teleport."

    Huldain was the most affected by this statement; he clearly was not a fan of teleportation. Olaf simply sighed, and nodded, recognising that it was the only course of action.

    He stood up and clapped. "Right. Let¡¯s get going, then."

    This forward approach took Myrian by surprise. Olaf stood in the centre of the room and looked about at his companions expectantly. Huldain sighed, and wrapped his cloak around him. Alun looked about for the moment, and then let his concerns be heard.

    "I thought you said it was extremely dangerous."

    Olaf looked at him and smiled. "Only if it¡¯s done wrong. Now, hold each other¡¯s hand, and I will be the anchor."

    Marius looked at his teacher as he held both Alun and Huldain''s hands. "What do you mean, the anchor?"

    Myrian explained, allowing Olaf to start the chanting. "The anchor is the portal into which we enter; wherever Olaf thinks, we go. He is the medium upon which we travel."

    Marius nodded; he now understood the principle, it was just the practice that worried him.

    Olaf''s tattoos began to shine brightly. His booming voice filled the room, and a blue light began to circle the companions. The shining light began to pulse and vibrate, causing Marius to close his eyes. A sudden giddy feeling tore him off his feet, and he felt as if was falling. he opened one eye for a moment, and saw blinding light swirl about them, forcing his eyes closed again. The spinning sensation stopped just as Marius felt something hard beneath his feet. He opened his eyes again, expecting the light, but found himself on the sculptor''s roof in the Capitol, looking out at the deep trench made from Myrian''s weapon.

    Huldain bent over and vomited over the side of the roof, shortly followed by Alun. Olaf staggered slightly, and Marius jumped over to support him. His mentor was drained; Myrian stood on the other side of Olaf, and unsheathed his knife. Alarm flared up within Marius, and his hand instantly jumped to his black blade.

    Myrian put his hands up as a sign of peace and pointed to his knife. "I was just going to do a little spell to revitalize him; that is all."

    Marius looked from his exhausted teacher to the man he had been chasing. Olaf had looked inside Myrian''s mind and trusted him enough to teleport. Marius took his hand off from his blade and nodded.

    Myrian cut a small line across his own flesh, and then did the same thing to Olaf. Alun, Huldain, and Marius all watched as Myrian''s tattoos shimmered. He placed his arm against Olaf''s and immediately the old man began to flush in his cheeks. Myrian, however, seemed to lose a little colour, and Marius realized he had given his own power to his brother.

    It was at this point that two streaking trails of smoke flew through the air above them, and entered the palatial estates of the Church.

 Chapter 32:

    A blazing flash of blue light shot across the sky just as the black clouds passed overhead. Durie jumped up with a smile on his face, and pointed to a rooftop high above.

    "That¡¯s Olaf!" He cried, and ran up the twisting alleys towards his friend as a violent wind began to rip through the streets of the Capitol. Orei followed her uncle, and was immediately chased by her honour guard. Luther trotted along after them with a smile from ear to ear, as he recognized Alun''s figure bent over the side of the roof with Huldain.

    Olaf, Myrian, Marius, Alun, and Huldain climbed down from the roof to see Durie and Orei running up towards them. Huldain immediately saw Mjolik by Orei''s side, and gave a cry of anguish at his friend, the king''s, death. Olaf saw this too, and sighed whilst Alun and Marius took in their friends'' strange apparel.

    Alun was the first to speak as he saw Orei. "What the hell happened to you?" He asked as he looked at the gilded armour and war hammer.

    Orei pulled a face of both grief and pride as her honour guard pulled up behind her. "I am the new Queen of Doflhiem, Alun. Saurin murdered my father and imprisoned me, Luther broke us out, and I killed the Betrayer with my father''s hammer."

    Alun stared for a moment in shock. He took in the guards and the armour, and nodded. "I am sorry for your loss, my friend."

    Myrian chipped in at this point. "I''m sorry too, but we must be gone. We have Eldar to destroy."

    Orei and Durie drew their weapons which prompted the twenty highly trained Dwarven warriors to do the same. Myrian put up his hands for the second time within ten minutes, waiting for Olaf to give the Dwarves the all clear.

    Olaf stepped in front of his brother, and smiled. "It¡¯s alright, Orei. He is with us; there are larger things at work here than we had originally thought."

    Orei frowned at this, and lowered her hammer. Her guards followed suit, and Alun gave a whistle.

    "Well they will be handy," he said, then saw Luther and went to join him.

    Olaf was already talking to Orei, Durie, Myrian, and Huldain about the plan of attack as they headed towards the church. Listening in, Alun found that it was quite straight forward; Olaf, Marius, Myrian, and Huldain were to go in first as a battering ram, whilst Orei, Durie, Luther, and Alun, with the guards, were to bring up the rear. Alun liked this plan; he didn''t much enjoy hand to hand combat and with the guards close by, he would be safe and sound. The group took up a faster pace, and although it wasn''t a far walk, by the time they reached the gates, Alun was sweating.

    The high white walls no longer looked alluring, and Alun felt with a growing sense of dread that this could be his last resting place. Huldain smashed down the iron gates, and charged into the complex. No one resisted them as they pushed through to the heart the church¡¯s inner sanctums, and they followed Myrian''s directions until they came to a massive golden door at the centre of the Church. Even the Dwarves looked in awe at the door, and both Huldain and Olaf looked at each other before charging, weapons drawn. A large creaking snap sounded the door''s end, as the small invasion force crashed into the main hall, palatial soldiers stood in ranks after ranks against them.

    Now it made sense why no one had tried to stop them before.

    The soldiers wore light green armour, augmented with brown, and held spears and shields with every one pointed in the companions'' direction. Myrian entered first, calmly and slowly. He took aim, and the green soldiers raised their shields expecting nothing more than an arrow. Blinding yellow light shot forth, and blew away a third of the enemy forces. Olaf, Huldain, and Marius now jumped into the fray joined by Orei, Durie, and the Dwarves, who gave great war cries as they hacked and slashed at their foes. Alun and Luther were last, mopping up any survivors or wounded, with a crack from their guns. It was short work, and only a small distraction compared to the larger task at hand, but then more came, swarming in like ants protecting their nest.

    Myrian continued on, occasionally letting off smaller bursts of energy to clear their path. Olaf and Huldain were on his left and right, ensuring that nothing came close. Marius followed behind, completing a diamond formation as Orei, Durie, Luther, Alun, and the Dwarves defended the rear. Myrian made his way down a small corridor with his brothers and Marius, whilst the others held the encroaching soldiers at bay. More and more came, and it seemed strange that so many soldiers would be in this one spot.

    Finally, Myrian pulled up to the stairway from his memory, and Olaf felt trepidation as he followed his brother down into the depths. The first two things that Marius noticed as he followed Olaf were, firstly, that the whole Capitol was hollow underneath, and secondly, that dragons were truly massive. An enormous white wing wrapped around one wall, and Marius felt fear grip him as he tried to follow it to the body. He ran out of time ¨C they had reached the floor of the cavern before he found the beast''s monstrous torso.

    Olaf looked about them, and continuously kept an eye on the dragon. It seemed familiar somehow, but he couldn''t place it. They were creeping across the floor, and he marvelled at how perfectly straight it was. A black carpet led across the cavern to an elevated podium that was the size of a small mountain. As Olaf peered up its carved slopes, he saw a large stone throne sitting at its peak. Voices rang out from the top, and he strained to listen. In a normal cavern, the voices would have echoed, but the sheer expanse of space in this one sucked up all sounds.

    The four of them reached the base of the elevation, and began to sneak up the steps when suddenly a voice rang out above them.

    "Hello, children," it said, and Olaf, Huldain, and Myrian froze at the memory of it. "Why don''t you come up and have a little chat?"

    Huldain was the first to speak. "Why would we do that? You would set your overgrown lizard on us before we said good morning."

    The dragon growled somewhere in the deep depths of the cavern, and it sounded as though a huge explosion had caused an avalanche to kick start a volcano.

    The voice tutted in a jovial manner. "Firstly, gentlemen," it said, "It is evening, and secondly, I would not set poor Golgoth on you just yet. Where would the excitement be in that?"

    Two other voices urgently whispered to the first, and Marius knew it was Eldrikch and Serlaena. He gripped the ivory handle of his black blade, and smiled darkly at the thought of taking off the Eldar''s head. Huldain obviously had the same idea as he raised his axe and smashed it against the steps. Olaf and Myrian took full advantage of this distraction, and leaped up over the rippling shock waves of their brother''s attack, and charged the three Eldar. Olaf saw the lead Eldar''s face: it was twisted and different from the first time he had seen it, but there was no mistaking him. Vlasmir, King of the Eldar, father of Eldrikch, stood at the ready.

    The king had white robes to match his features, which were only broken up by his crimson eyes. An unusual sword was in his hands, and Olaf gawped as it came up to meet his own. The ringing vibrations of the connection were enough to throw Eldrikch off guard as Myrian landed next to him, slashing down with his knife as he came. Eldrikch''s fiery glaives instantly bloomed into his hands as he blocked the attack with lightning speed. Marius joined in the attack, and sought to separate the prince''s head from his body.

    Serlaena hissed at the attack, and was about to strike out when Huldain smashed into her with his axe. She formed glaives of her own, and gave a spinning jump in an attempt to slice Huldain down the middle. Vlasmir''s strange blade flew through air, and nicked Olaf above his left ear, causing blood to fall freely across his face. His blue tattoos shone with a deep intensity, and his eyes glowed with the same eerie light, looking directly into his enemy, exploiting any weakness.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Their blades connected again, giving Olaf a closer look at the unusual sword. It seemed to be forged out of glass, but it sang out as it sliced through the air and withheld even Olaf''s strongest blows. In fact, Vlasmir''s blade seemed to be chipping Olaf''s, which caused alarm to bloom within him. The long blade was curved slightly like a falchion, but ended with a double edged point that quivered past Olaf''s head. The handle was made from the same material, but was bound with red silk which hung from the pommel and flowed with every strike.

    Serlaena cursed as Huldain''s axe haft pushed her over some of the rubble he had caused with his first strike. She fell off from the incline, and smiled as she saw a white tail slither past. She hit the floor head first with a crunch, and Huldain turned away from the edge to charge at Eldrikch, who was desperately fighting Myrian and Marius simultaneously, lost were his former grace and ease.

    Olaf and Vlasmir passed by, and Huldain changed target, deciding he had best help his other brother. The cries and clangs from above alerted the battling warriors below that the Dwarves had been pushed back to the stairway, and Vlasmir smiled at Olaf and Huldain, whom he was holding at bay with growing ease.

    Alun looked over at Luther in horror; they had lost over half of the Dwarves, and now they were at the steps to the cavern below, they would need to retreat soon. Another crashing blow from Mjolik signalled the death of yet another soldier, but as they watched, three more took its place. Durie fought as a Dwarf possessed, but with every slicing blow from his white and gold blade, still more replaced the dead. Finally, Orei signalled a temporary defeat as they ran down the stairs, chased by the unrelenting forces behind them. Durie looked down to see Olaf and Huldain engaged with a white Eldar, whilst Myrian and Marius hacked, sliced and shot at the one in black. He felt a little hope, but instantly dismissed it as he saw the moving coils of a truly massive white dragon.

    Olaf and Huldain were failing against Vlasmir, and Marius knew that Eldrikch was not tiring against his and Myrian''s attacks. To make things worse, the Dwarves had regrouped at the foot of the destroyed incline, and desperately fought a growing force.

    Vlasmir could be heard laughing above, and Orei began to retreat up the incline towards the battling heroes. The dragon''s movements had begun to speed up, and she felt that if she only joined her other friends, all would be saved. Her Dwarves followed her, and step by step, Orei''s diminishing force climbed higher and higher. Durie brought up the rear, kicking and slashing at any of soldiers that followed. Luther, Alun, and the Dwarves made it to the peak of the elevation, and stared at the exchanging moves that were on display. Cuts littered every occupant, but it was clear to see that the Eldar had the advantage.

    It was at this point that a huge roar blasted through the darkness, and green flames erupted out from the darkness, melting the rock on one side of the podium into a molten river. Orei charged at Eldrikch, intending to put the Eldar down, thinking that he was distracted. It happened so quickly, that when Durie blinked he missed it: Eldrikch kicked Myrian off from the elevation, and span around to stab Orei in the heart with his fiery glaive. He then turned to see Marius bringing down Nurlin''s blade with both hands, cleaving the prince from his left shoulder to his right hip, allowing the dark crown of the prince to fall from his savage brow.

    Durie dropped his blade upon the floor and ran to his niece, who landed in his arms. He cradled Orei, and felt tears stream down his face as he saw blood flow from the wound. Orei opened her eyes slightly, and coughed, spraying blood across Durie''s blue breastplate. She lifted an armoured hand to her uncle''s face, before letting it fall, just as her body fell limp. Her eyes stared sightlessly, and Durie felt rage and anguish flare within him.

    Mjolik lay in Orei''s outstretched hand, and Durie rose, leaving his niece¡¯s corpse momentarily. He picked up the war hammer, and watched Eldrikch fall to the floor. He walked over to the gurgling Eldar, and raised the hammer. He brought it down twice, turning Eldrikch''s face into an unrecognizable smear across the stone floor, and bending the iron crown into a warped mess. Durie then heard the screams of Orei''s men as a gigantic claw smashed into the side of the elevation, shaking it to the very foundations. The soldiers came back up the slope after that, certain in their victory.

    Durie turned, and ran to Luther and Alun''s aid, quickly glancing back at the other combatants. Myrian was nowhere to be seen, and Durie figured he was dead. Olaf and Huldain still fought Vlasmir, who was now showing signs of fatigue after the death of his son, and Marius stared down at Eldrikch''s dead corpse before turning around and facing the towering figure of Golgoth, the white dragon. Durie jumped, and landed next to Luther and Alun, who were fighting beside the last three honour guard. Hundreds of soldiers streamed up the incline, and Durie lost all fear as he dove into their ranks with Mjolik.

    Marius looked up at the towering dragon and smiled. It¡¯s deep guttural growls shook the landscape around him, and green flames flickered at its mouth, not wanting to release yet in the event of killing its master.

    Vlasmir tripped over a rock, and fell just as Huldain brought his axe into a sweeping slice and Olaf brought his blade up at the same time, slicing off Vlasmir''s sword arm, causing him to spin and fall from the podium, and out of sight.

    Marius''s smile widened as he positioned his feet shoulder length apart, and raised his blade. Golgoth took a huge intake of breath, and Marius took aim. Vlasmir fell to the ground with a thump, and the dragon opened its mouth to lay waste to everything below. Marius ran at the beast and jumped from the podium and out into the empty space beyond, blade first. The black tip of Nurlin''s blade buried itself into the vast chest of Golgoth, and slid freely through its skin as Marius began to slide down the dragon''s middle. The white dragon roared, causing the cavern to shake with the vibrations. Black blood oozed from the large slit, and Golgoth began to fall forwards in pain. Marius kicked off from the beast, and left his sword buried within the dragon''s gut. He rolled as he landed beside Olaf, and picked up Vlasmir''s dismembered arm, wrenching the strange sword from its grip.

    The dragon hit the ground, causing the podium to shudder and collapse. Olaf and Huldain ran down the incline with Luther, Alun, and Durie who were chasing the now retreating soldiers. Marius stood on the failing supports, and ran in a different direction; he watched as the ground around him fell away, and then propelled himself off the stone throne which crumbled to dust behind him.

    Golgoth watched as the tiny speck of Marius came closer towards its eye; it felt blood seep from its chest and gut. Marius landed, blade first yet again upon the white dragon ¨C this time, however, he landed upon the beast''s head, and felt Vlasmir''s clear blade sink into a soft part between the dragon''s eyes. It screamed momentarily as the blade touched, and then fell into silence.

    Marius pulled Vlasmir''s blade out from the dragon''s head, and looked at the curved blade in satisfaction, enjoying the way it felt in his hand when suddenly, a burning sensation ran over his skin.

    The whispers of ages past flew around his skull. He cried out in alarm as purple light swirled over his arms, and a strange wind tore around him. He dropped the clear blade, and ripped at his chest, seeing the same light pulsing over his body. The light grew and grew, spreading to every inch of his flesh before dying down, and Marius looked down to see purple tattoos covering his flesh, the very same that covered Olaf, Huldain, Myrian, and Bartholomew.

    ...

    Olaf, Huldain, Marius, Alun, Luther, and Durie sat upon the steps outside the smoking church, and watched as the soldiers they had fought spread throughout the city in retreat, telling everyone they met what had occurred.

    It wouldn''t be long, Olaf reflected, before the Empire of Alturine would know the truth about their Church. Most of the citizens hated it anyway, and he wouldn''t be surprised if the old kingdoms resurfaced.

    Alun looked at his brother and smiled slightly. Marius was still looking over his flesh at his purple tattoos. Durie occasionally looked at the cart that held his niece''s body, and sighed. They had gone back down and reclaimed the fallen bodies from the destruction. Orei and the Dwarven honour guard had been laid in stone coffins, carved by Huldain, and packed into two carts, ready for transportation to Doflhiem. The Eldar and countless soldiers had been piled up and burned in the cavern next to fallen remains of Golgoth.

    Only Vlasmir and Myrian''s bodies could not be found. Olaf was sure that Myrian was still alive, but he was uncertain about Vlasmir''s fate, which annoyed him.

    Huldain stood up, and stretched. "Well," he said. "I best get back to my forge."

    He looked over at Durie with sympathy, and then gave the future king a smile. "Are you coming, my friend?"

    Durie gave a sad nod, and trudged over to the carts. Luther hopped up too, and lay a hand on Alun''s shoulder.

    "I guess this is good bye again," he said, and Alun stood up and shook his friend''s hand.

    "Until next time," he said, and watched as Luther jumped into the cart and set off with Huldain and Durie. Olaf stretched himself out and pulled out his pipe. Fire and crumbling mortar destroyed the church behind them, a beacon to all those that would seek power within the southern kingdoms. Yet Marius, now looking up from his glistening flesh, felt that this was but the start, he could sense now, with the absence of the church war would come.