The dwarven King waved them back to their seats as he walked over to the barrel of dwarven ale, “Sit, friends, you’ll find we are less formal than you humans,” drawing a tankard of ale and downing it in one. He filled the tankard again and took the seat beside Mal.
“So why was an army of Goblins hunting your party?” asked the King, sipping from his tankard and absently wiping the froth from his beard.
“Your Majesty, We come bringing dire news, I’m afraid,
The Demon Délíntra is trying to return to our realm. While that would be bad for us, all races will be equally affected, once before the demon tried to take over this world, and we know that the humans, dwarves and other races joined together to defeat him,” replied Prince Salistar.
“The Demon Délíntra was destroyed over a thousand years ago by my great great grandfather,” responded the King, “I’m sure there is nothing to worry about,” he finished before downing the rest of his ale.
“Your highness, we know for a fact that the goblin invasion of the mountains to the North was an attack designed to find and kill the Lady Malderia. We also know that there is a prophecy that states if Mal or myself die, he wins. Our studies have led us to understand that the dwarves originally helped in defeating him, and we have travelled here to see if we can find knowledge about how he was defeated and possible allies in the battle to come,” responded Prince Salistar.
“Humph!” snorted the King eyeing Prince Salistar and Mal while drinking from his tankard. His eyes wandered to Master Killian, who had returned to entertaining the crowd and seemed absorbed in his singing.
Silently Master Killian was seething; the King was definitely stubborn and seemed likely to dismiss them as soon as look at them. Finishing the song he was on, he started to sign a human favourite, a song about a foolish young man that ignored his mothers’ advice and kept getting into deeper and deeper trouble.
The Dwarves were crying with laughter at the young man’s exploits and the danger he kept getting into, only to be rescued by his friends at the last moment.
Most of the night, Master Killian sang songs that spoke of friendship and heroics. Eventually coming, to the end of the night and realising that the commanders were having little luck convincing the King, he launched into a dwarven ballad that spoke of the dwarves fight with the demon a thousand years before. It spoke of the bravery and sacrifice of the dwarves, and the song continued; the dwarves hung on every word. Slapping backs and drinking toasts to the heroes of the ballad. As the ballad came to its end, he didn’t stop but added new verses to the end, merging his ballad of the mountain princess into the story. Silence spread across the room as he sang the song.
When he got to the part where Mal fought the Ogre at Bearon, the Dwarves were banging their tankards on the tables; when she saved the Prince and then his mother, a fight broke out at the back of the room.
When he told of the battle of Darseholt, the room exploded into shouts of “Death to the goblins!” and “Princess Malderia!”
Even the King seemed to be caught up in the story thumping his tankard on the table along with the others.
“Master Bard, you tell a good tale; I haven’t heard the Ballad of Mullard cross told so well before, Commanders, while I don’t believe that the demon can return, I will think on this tonight, and we will meet again on the morrow.” Said the King.
Mal watched as the King got up and left with some of his advisors. Turning to Prince Salistar, she whispered, “That went better than I could have imagined. What do you think?”
“I agree it wasn’t as bad as we thought; unfortunately, I don’t know if we have convinced him of the peril that we are in, we will have to see what tomorrow brings. I don’t think that it will be good news,” replied Prince Salistar, looking into his tankard and taking a swallow of the dwarven ale.
—
The following day they were going about their morning routine, which Mal had evolved into becoming aware of herself until she could see the golden strands that fed between her and the band. Every morning Mal started travelling down the strands and learning as much about this magic as she could.
When she travelled down the thread that led to Barthel, she noticed that it was more robust and thicker than the others. Realising that the magic she had cast might have affected the bond between them, she reminded herself to be careful when she did things.
Once again, she reached the spark of light that was Barthel, and when she touched it, she was able to slide into his mind. Over the last few days, she had been doing this; Barthel had become accustomed to Mal’s arrival and could now sense her in his mind.
“Sister,” he thought to her, “how fares you”. The affection and love he felt for her were evident in his thoughts as with this form of communication as Mal had learnt quickly wouldn’t let you hide your emotions, which is why Barthel could tell that Mal was in a better mood than she had been in the last few times she had appeared in his mind.
“We met with the King last night, and things aren’t as bad as we feared though not as good as we hoped. We shall hopefully meet with him again today to find out his ruling on the matter. How fares the men?”
Knowing Mal was one for routines, he had explained to the Chamberlain Wintersong how Mal had been contacting him and that she wanted reports on the camp’s status. So Chamberlain Wintersong had been delivering his messages to Barthel in the mornings so that he would have the information she needed.
Mal sighed a sigh of relief when she broke concentration with Barthel; she knew that it irked Chamberlain Wintersong that she didn’t contact him directly. Mal had taken the dwarven spell masters advice and stuck to small feats of magic and only moved on when they became second nature, and she understood the fundamental nature of each action.
While it took a lot of concentration to follow each thread, she noticed it was getting easier. Once she had fully learned and understood it, she would contact others’ minds and make sure that they knew what to expect. So as not to drop in unannounced as it was.
Mal had dropped into Barthel’s mind one morning very early; apparently, he had been dreaming and unfortunately, it had been quite an arousing dream, and Mal had fled quite quickly. The next time she had entered his mind, she had learnt that you couldn’t hide your emotions; the embarrassment at intruding in his private dream had been sensed by him as if she had been shouting across the mountains.
Since they couldn’t hide any emotions, Barthel had been able to tell Mal was embarrassed and why, and Mal had felt his amusement and forgiveness.
“Little sister,” he had said, “Don’t fret about it, tis a natural thing,” leaving it at that Mal had been able to get over it, but she wanted to figure out a way to hold her emotions in check and to maybe block her feelings completely.
Sighing, Mal stood and left her room, entering the main room. She saw that they were all breaking their morning fast. Smiling, she grabbed a chunk of bread and dipped it into a pungent stew that the dwarves liked in the morning.
“Hows the men?” asked Prince Salistar, knowing Mal’s morning routine well.
“Good, the supplies arrived last night, so they have plenty of food for the next couple of weeks, and the men are in good spirits,” replied Mal.
“We have a guest,” Master Killian informed the group as he led Cardvork Ironspike into the room.
“Commanders,” he said, tilting his head toward both of them and neither at the same time, “The King requests your presence in one hour where he will deliver his verdict.” His cold voice spoke volumes to them about the decision that had been made and that it wouldn’t be in their favour.
“Cardvork Ironspike, please inform the king we would be happy to attend and thank you for personally coming to deliver his majesties note,” replied Prince Salistar in an off-hand sort of way.
Cardvork Ironspike blew some air out; his skin went a bit purple, and he looked like he would say something. Before deciding not to, he turned and left with Master Killian in tow.
When Master Killian came back into the room, he was grinning from ear to ear, “My Lord Commander, that was priceless, he was near ready to explode by the time he got out the front door,”
Seeing the look of confusion on Mal’s face, “His Highness, effectively turned the Kings’ summons into a simple note, something that would be delivered by a lowly page and not someone of his stature. While the dwarves don’t seem to spend much time caring about rank Cardvork Ironspike does, gossip is that his ego only grew with his appointment as Cardvork.”
Smiling, Mal said, “I see; well, I’m glad that someone was able to take him down a peg or two.”
—
An hour later, the small group had made its way to the meeting with the King. As they were approaching, they saw Cardvork Ironspike speaking with another dwarf. When he saw the group arriving, his face briefly showed the contentment he held for the humans before he regained self-control.
“Ah, you’ve arrived,” he said with a dark undertone.
Turning, he walked off down the corridor; without any explicit instruction from the Cardvork, the group followed him down the corridor. He walked into a room covered in stone carvings that depicted all types of dwarves, some were crafting things, and some were wielding weapons.
Seeing the commanders arriving, the King turned away from the papers on his desk and spoke. “I have thought about your story, and while I believe that you believe it is real, I find no reason to believe that the Demon Délíntra can return.” Looking over Mal’s shoulder, he stood his mouth half-open as he watched the person that had just entered his private audience chamber unannounced.
Turning to follow his gaze, Mal saw a small woman about the same height as the dwarves but not as stocky walking across the room towards them; her skin was a light blue, her eyes were golden and seemed to glow against the blue of her skin. As she got closer, Mal could see that her skin, while striking, was weathered with age. She wore a simple robe of brown that covered her almost completely. Tied with a bow of string on the side.
When she stopped in front of the King, Mal stood at one side of the King and Prince Salistar to the other.
She reached up with a light blue taloned hand containing three fingers and pulled the hood back to completely reveal her face. She had raven black hair that fell to her shoulders, and her mouth was full of fangs that almost gleamed against the blue of her face.
“Your highnesses,” she intoned bowing, “My mistress has sent me to inform you that indeed the Demon Délíntra is attempting to return to this realm. Once again, the Dwarves must stand with the humans and elves and destroy him once and for all,” turning to Mal, she continued, “I am also to request that you come to her alone; it is, of course, your own choice but if you do not come and come alone the chances of surviving will be slim.”
Turning to Prince Salistar, “Prince Salistar, you must take the Blackguard and the Dwarves back to your father. You must leave your love to her task; this is something that only she can do, and she must do it alone.”
Protests shot from the mouths of Mal’s friends, but she silenced them when she held up her taloned hand; the nails on the ends of her three fingers were an inch long and black.
“The Salican will be as safe as she would be if she was surrounded by an army. If she stays with you or if you insist on coming with her, then everything will be lost.”
The kings’ shoulders slumped as he realised that the humans had been speaking the truth. “Priestess, I will marshal the dwarven armies at once, and we will grind the demon to dust this, I swear.”
“Prince Salistar, I hope your men are ready to move out as we will be leaving in the hour. Lady Malderia, I am sorry I ever doubted you; good luck on your travels. I would advise you to hurry; your escort is already leaving,” he said, pointing to the retreating back of the mysterious visitor. “The priestesses of the oracle are not known for staying away long, and it has been four hundred years since the last visit. Normally when a dwarven king is about to do something disastrous.”
Nodding, Mal waved goodbye to her friends and shouted over her shoulder as she raced to catch up with the Priestess. “I’ll try to get news to Barthel so that the Band is ready to move when you arrive.”
Mal got to the room’s door and had to run to catch up with the nimble Priestess whose little legs seemed to flow over the ground in front of her.
“Can we pause for a second? I need to send instructions to my men,” said Mal.
“No, If we stop, you die,” responded the Priestess. “Besides, you might eventually need to cast your magic when moving, so you might as well learn to cast your magic on the go; now hurry up.”
Mal was surprised that she knew that she had magic and wondered how much she did know. Shaking her head, Mal didn’t understand why she was following the blue Priestess without a single protest, but following her, she was.
It took Mal nearly an hour to contact Barthel, and then she could only concentrate long enough to issue the command “Break Camp”. Before, she had to focus entirely on the rocky tunnel they had been hurrying down for the last forty minutes. The infravision spell that she had cast that morning gave her eyes the same golden irises as the Priestess, and she wondered if they shared the same magic or where her eyes naturally that colour. Not that the Priestess spoke much.
Mal’s youth had been spent on the mountain running up and down trails from one valley to the next, but after nearly three hours, she was relieved when the Priestess stopped and sat down on a rock.
Reaching behind the rock, she pulled a package from the shadows. Unwrapping it, she handed Mal a roll of hard bread with some type of meat in it.
“Eat quickly; we can only stop for a few minutes, Malderia,” she said.
“How do you know my name?”
“My mistress told me a lot of things about you, now I know you have more questions, but sound travels far in the tunnels, and if you keep asking questions, we will be late, and we don’t want to be late; you’ll get the answers to all your questions soon enough now eat,” she replied biting into her food.
They ate quickly, and the Priestess took a long drink from a flash in the package. Handing it to Mal, she said, “Finish that and throw it behind the rock we need to move.”
The liquid was strong and reminded Mal of the cherry brandy from home. As the warmth of the liquid-filled her. She felt the tiredness leave her muscles. Stashing the bottle behind the rock, the pair of them headed down the tunnel.
Three more times, they proceeded to stop and eat before moving off the liquid drink that the Priestess had stashed warmed her body, and the tiredness fell away each time. Unlike the cherry brandy of home, she didn’t feel groggy in any way from the effects of the liquid.
When the Priestess stopped for the fifth time, she put a taloned finger to her lips to signal silence. Whispering to Mal, she said, “There is a bridge of sorts that we must cross quickly before any of the defiled ones arrive now, hurry.”
Stepping around the corner, the Priestess made her way out onto an open area; two poles tied to the ground about one hundred meters ahead were her target, and when they got there, Mal could see that the ground fell away below into darkness. The only thing in front of them was a single span of rock that jutted out into the darkness ahead.
The Priestess continued to the bottom of the steps and started walking out onto the ledge. Mal followed sweat beading on her forehead, the only sign of fear as she forced herself to walk out and onto the stone path. This was more frightening than the ledge above the village, and every step was a battle of nerves.
Soon they were too far out to see the cliff they had left behind, and it felt like she was standing on a pinnacle. With nothing below to support the stone path that she walked on. Her only thought was that putting one foot in front of the other kept her going.
She didn’t even realise it when her mind slipped into the state that would let her see the golden threads; it had been so easy. But unlike before this time, she was doing it subconsciously and was fully aware of what was happening around her. The golden threads lent her strength and the knowledge she wasn’t alone.
A chuckle in front of her spoke of the Priestess’s knowledge of what had just happened.
A roar behind and a flare of light announced they were not alone.
“Dam, they have a firedrake which means they have our scent; we need to hurry,” said the Priestess as she picked up the pace running across the stone.
Mal followed close behind as the pair raced across the stone bridge. Flares of light directly behind spoke of the chase was on. Mal felt the first vibration of the stone bridge in her feet.
“By the gods, they have taken the firedrake onto the bridge we must run before it collapses below us,” said the Priestess breaking into a flat out run that Mal had a hard time to match.
The vibrations got more severe. Mal found it harder and harder to keep her footing on the stone bridge as it started to flex. The sound of large cracks appearing on the bridge warned that they were in grave danger.
As they ran, sections of the stone bridge started to crack and fall with no sound of the large chunks hitting anything they ran on. The outline of a cliff appeared out of the shadows with a tunnel waiting for them, and they ran towards it like it was a mothers embrace.
Twenty feet, ten feet more and more chunks of the bridge started to fall when suddenly there was a massive bang as the bridge broke with a shudder and the screams of the firedrake could be heard as it fell into the abyss.
Running the last few yards to safety as the bridge started to collapse around them. The Priestess was near the tunnel’s safety when at the section of the bridge she put her foot on gave way, and she and Mal started to fall into the abyss. Luckily Mal was able to leap for the mouth of the tunnel as she sailed over the Priestess; she watched in helplessness as the ground that the Priestess put her whole weight on fell away.
Without thinking, Mal threw a golden thread of power towards the Priestess, her mind following the tip of the line, her essence flowing into the thread to make it thicker, first as wide as a string, then a rope, then as thick as a chain. Speeding faster and faster after the Priestess, she wrapped the Priestess in the chains of power.
She slowed her descent, then slowly she started to lift the Priestess out of the abyss; the strain was immense by the time the Priestess was up to the ledge; she was on her knees. The power filled her completely; her eyes blazed golden light. As the Priestess reached her, she collapsed into a deep sleep.
Mal woke with a start, disorientated by the darkness.
“Hush now, Child, you are exhausted, I have no idea how you saved me, but you have my thanks; we are safe for a time, so rest a while more; we have several days travel ahead,” whispered the Priestess.
Sleep was not hard to find; no sooner had Mal Closed her eyes than the Priestesses hand was on her shoulder, shaking her awake.
“Sorry, but we need to move again. I have a food stash that we can rest at a couple of hours from here.”
“Ok,” said Mal rubbing the tiredness from her eyes, getting up and stretching before following the Priestess up the tunnel.
The hours turned into days as they travelled. Mal had no idea how long they had been travelling; every few hours, they stopped, and the Priestess produced a wrapped package of food and the mysterious drink that swept the tiredness away.
“We are nearly safe; we must make the next stop quickly, and then we should be safe from then on.”
“Safe from who?”
“Dark elves are chasing us, and we need to stay ahead of them. Once we are with the oracle, we will be safe. How are you feeling?”
“Tired, priestess, but the drink helps; what is it?”
“Dragon tears, every rare it has restorative properties are extraordinary potent; the oracle said we would need it,” replied the Priestess.
“You’ve mentioned the Oracle several times. What can you tell me about the Oracle?”
“She said you would ask that question, and she said that if you did, we were late and needed to run,” and saying so, she started to rush down the tunnel as much as any tunnel would let them rush.
They reached the next package several hours later and decided to walk and eat simultaneously; once finished, they heard a rockfall behind in the tunnel, and a low scream pronounced the fact that the dark elves were not far back.
“The tunnel gets wider from here, which means that while we can move faster, so can they,” whispered the Priestess.
The tunnel they were on eventually merged with a much wider tunnel; the floor was much smoother than the tunnels they had been squeezing through since the bridge.
“We need to hurry now,” prompted the Priestess, and the pair set off with Mal having to run to keep up with the Priestess as she flowed up the tunnel.
They had only travelled five hundred yards when they heard a cry of triumph from behind, and four dark elves stepped out onto the tunnel. The leader pointed to Mal and the Priestess, and they started to race up the tunnel towards them.
Turning a corner, the dark elves were left behind as Mal, and the Priestess raced up the tunnel.
“The Oracles sanctum is not far; we will be safe there run!”
Mal’s lungs were burning, but she knew that if she slowed, the dark elves would be on top of her she strained to put as much effort into reaching the safety of the Oracles sanctum.
Mal could hear the dark elves getting closer and closer and wondered how the Oracle would protect them from the dark elves.
Turning another corner, Mal saw a bright light ahead that must be the Oracle’s sanctum; the sight spurred her on. The Dark elves were mere meters behind her, and in Mal’s mind, it felt like the dark elves were breathing down her neck. She could hear their footsteps behind her pounding on the stone floor.
Mal raced on up the tunnel; each step caused the muscles in her legs to burn. Stepping into the bright area, her eyes were slow to adjust to the light.
When they did, the head of a dragon-filled her vision, its toothy maw was opening, and Mal knew that its fiery breath was seconds away from burning her to nothing. She couldn’t stop herself; at the last instance, her foot caught on a stone protruding from the stone floor, and she fell below the gaping mouth. The heat from the dragon’s flame roaring above her frightened her to the bone, and she cowered in a ball below the dragon.
She felt the dragon move above her but refused to move if it noticed and decided to burn her to a crisp. Feeling the dragon’s breath on her neck, Mal held her breath and tried to silence her pounding heart.
“Get up, child. You are safe now,” said a voice full of power and authority.
Moving her hands away from her face, Mal could see the Priestess speaking with several others and thought that it must have been one of them that had bid her stand. Slowly she turned her head and stared into the eye of the dragon. Its huge eye was the same golden colour as the Priestess.
Mal’s heart was pounding in her chest, and she started to back away from the dragon. The eye struck a primal fear in Mal, and she felt that she was being judged for some reason.
“Now be still, little one; you are truly safe,” repeated the voice. It took Mal a second to realise that it was the dragon that spoke to her. Mal just sat there with her mouth hanging open.
A deep chuckle erupted from the heart of the dragon; it reverberated around the cavern they were in. “Silistra, would you be a dear and help our young friend here.”
Mal didn’t move until the Priestess placed her hand on her shoulder and broke her concentration.
“It’s ok, your safe now,” she said, helping Mal stand up, “Just catch your breath a moment, and you’ll be fine.”
Seeing that Mal was calming down a bit, the dragon spoke, “Welcome, Ogre Slayer, I am glad to finally meet you. You probably won’t remember me, but I’ve tried talking to you when you entered the dream, but you kept running away from me.
“The Dream?”
“Yes, I exist partly in the dream it shows me portends of the future. Not many people can walk the dream, and interpreting those dreams correctly allows you to walk a safe path.”
“I can see the dream?”
“Yes, you are walking in the dream often, and you have much to learn; I have saved you many times in the dream. Come now, child and I will teach you.”