I apologise that this is later than first planned. Whilst Esdaria has stood still, awaiting the next steps Gidwyn was due to take on his quest, the real world has rumbled onwards.
Gidwyn did not expect to awaken from his fall. He also did not expect to awaken by a warm fire.
For a moment, he wondered if he had died, and the flames were the sacred Fire awaiting to greet him. But nae, surely the Fire would be larger ‘n far hotter…No. Am I home? Surely not…
As Gidwyn slowly opened his eyes and found the world around him swathed in a deep, dark blur, he began to wonder if, through some divine will, he was indeed back home. He could see low stone walls, firelight dancing on wooden seats, a small tale and could smell food.
‘Eoina…?’ he managed to croak. ‘Eoina…?’
To Gidwyn’s amazement, a figure appeared above him. But even in his near-death haze, he could tell it was not Eoina.
The thing that appeared over him was enormous: a huge, dark shape that blotted out the light in the room with an enormous shadow. Gidwyn blinked, suddenly terrified, and tried to recoil as he saw firelight dance upon stone-grey skin, tusk-like teeth, a fat, squat nose and stubby, twisted ears. ‘By the Fire!’ Gidwyn cred, reaching for the Yaghu dagger – only to remember he had dropped it when he fell into the crevasse.
The thing loomed over him, stepping closer to the fire. Shoulders as broad as a cart squared themselves, legs and feet that looked as if they had been cut straight from the grey rock walls that rose around Gidwyn began to walk towards where he lay. He tried to wriggle away. Two hands the size of cartwheels descended towards him, and as the arms came towards him, Gidwyn realised the enormous figure was covered in huge plates of heavy armour.
Gidwyn screamed. ‘Troll!’ he cried, trying to scramble away, clawing at the stone floor. ‘T-t-troll!’
Head spinning, body wracked with pain, Gidwyn tried to roll onto his front and drag himself away from the enormous troll. I cannae be eaten! his mind screamed at him. I cannae! I cannae! No, no’ like this!
As his fingers grabbed at the stone beneath him, he felt a huge hand wrap itself around him and roll him back onto his back as if he were nothing more than a kicking baby. He screamed again, his eyes wide and staring, his beard showered with spittle.
‘Ssssh!’ a huge voice, its tone stern, echoed around the chamber. ‘Hush, little Snow-Dwarf, hush!’
Gidwyn thrashed and writhed as violently as he could. Quite suddenly, he became free from the huge hand – though he did not know if he had scrambled out from between the fingers of the huge hand that held him, or if the stone-like grasp had let him go. He scrambled backwards until his back was pressed firmly against the wall and could scuttled no further. The huge creature lumbered towards him still, stepping fully into the firelight, its hands raised, its wide, flat, tusked face twisted with irritation.
‘Little Snow-Dwarf,’ the creature said sternly, ‘hush! Hush!’
Gidwyn stared up at the creature. ‘By the Fire,’ he whispered. ‘You’re a…a…’
‘A troll?’ The creature said, raising itself to its full height – as tall as a large Man with another sitting on his shoulders and three times as wide. Firelight danced upon the creature’s stone-grey skin and the surprisingly ornate armour it wore – heavy shoulder-plated, large bracers around its wrists, heavy plates on its legs and a massive chestplate covering its torso. An’ torso wit’ a surprisingly cinched waist, an’ a pair o’ breasts…
‘I suppose I am now, yes,’ the
creature said. ‘Just a lowly troll,’ the enormous creature said. ‘But a troll
that saved your life, no-less.’
An’ remarkably well-spoken. Gidwyn looked up at the huge
creature. ‘A she-troll?’ he said. ‘A
real-life she-troll?’
The enormous she-troll folded her
arms across her wide chest. ‘A she-troll who can understand your words, little
Snow-Dwarf,’ she said, her voice grating. ‘Have cordiality and good manners
died out in the Upper-World?’
‘S-sorry,’ Gidwyn stammered.
‘I-…it’s just…’
The she-troll raised her enormous
slab of brow expectantly. It was then Gidwyn noticed the thick, dark hair she
had stretching down her back, pulled into a painfully tight braid, and a small,
surprisingly dainty diadem of metal wrought around her forehead. ‘Go on,’ she
said, ‘you were going to say?’
‘I’ve ne’er seen a troll before,’
Gidwyn said. ‘They’re rare in the Upper-World, an’ the stories that are
told-…well, they dinnae do ye justice-…’
‘Stories?’ The she-troll scoffed.
‘Stories of my kin? And how do they go?’
Gidwyn slowly got to his feet and
swallowed. His whole body ached and his nose felt as if someone had tried to
pull it off. As he reached up to touch it, he realised a thick, creamy balm had
been rubbed all over it. ‘I, well-…’ he coughed. ‘They’re no’…they’re no’ so
flatterin’, I ‘ave t’ admit.’
The she-troll scowled, her braided hair falling over her slate-grey cheeks. ‘How do they go?’
Gidwyn swallowed nervously. ‘Ye
see, trolls are known to be solitary creatures, oft not as…astute as yerself, an-…’
The she-troll sighed and shook
her head. ‘They tell of monstrous creatures, covered in fur and pelts and swinging clubs of wood and rock, no? Of grunting, inbred brutes,
dragging their knuckles as they walk, eating the flesh of sentient creatures,
barely capable of stringing a sentence together?’
Gidwyn swallowed. He could only
nod his head.
The huge she-troll sighed and
shook her head. ‘Then it is as I feared,’ she said, her voice rolling through
the shadows. ‘We have fallen far further than I ever dared imagine.’
‘Fallen?’ Gidwyn grumbled through
his beard. ‘Don’t ye dare talk t’ me about fallin’.’
The she-troll let out a grunt of
bitter laughter. ‘I suppose you have me there.’
For a moment, Gidwyn stood before
the enormous she-troll, wrapped in her ornate heavy armour, utterly unable to
process what was going on. ‘Wha’ ‘appened to me?’ he said eventually. ‘How did
I get ‘ere?’
The she-troll beckoned Gidwyn
back towards the fire, where he noticed a large iron pot was suspended above the flames. ‘I heard you screaming as you fell,’ the she-troll said, leading Gidwyn
to the fireside and picking up a huge, ornately-carved iron ladle. She spooned the
contents of the pot into two bowls and passed one to Gidwyn, who sat on a low
stool beside the warming flames, his whole body groaning with ache as he did
so.
‘I clean up you travellers when I
find you,’ the she-troll said. ‘If you lie around too long, you start to smell
and attract all manner of things.’
‘You…clean up…?’ Gidwyn swallowed
and looked down at the bowl of food in his hand. It smelled of earthy herbs and
meat. A lot of meat.
The she-troll seemed disgusted.
‘It’s snow hare and aromatic undermoss. You think I’d serve you…?’ She let out
a bitter laugh that rolled through the dark cave. ‘Then it is true. The Fall.’
‘I-…I didnae mean to offend. It’s
jus’-…’
‘You’ve never supped with a
troll.’
Gidwyn shook his head.
The she-troll shook her head.
‘Your ancestors would be horrified – that is, if it was not for the Fall.’
Wha’ ever d’ ye mean?’ Gidwyn said.
‘I mean, ‘bout the Fall?’
The she-troll’s face broke into a
small smile, her large, tusked teeth jutting between her dark lips. ‘My name is
Aolodaia, little Snow-Dwarf,’ the she-troll said, ‘but if that’s too much of a
mouthful, you can call me Daia. It’s an ancient name, carried by my mother, her
mother, and her grandmother. A proud name. It was given to the women of my
family by the First Dwarves, who carved our ancestors from the very stone
itself.
‘The trolls were once a majestic
people,’ she said quietly. ‘We were willing servants of the Ancient Dwarves
thousands of years ago – back in a time when the World was young, long before
Men, when only Elves walked Esdaria, forging great empires and exploring the
seas beyond.’ The she-troll paused. ‘We were the Dwarves’ everlasting servants,
creatures who lived thousands of years, guarding their cities and fighting
side-by-side with them in their great wars beneath the mountains. But we also
joined their families, ate and drank with them. To be assigned a Trûlhalan or Trûlhale – a troll-ward
– was a great honour for a family.’
The she-troll let out a long
sigh, memories eroding the wistful smile upon her stony features to a deep
frown. ‘And then it fell apart, almost overnight. The First Dwarves crumbled, broke
into clans and fell to war. Their cities went to ruin and were slowly abandoned
– there are thousands of miles of streets, roads, and houses far deeper beneath
the Esdarian Mountains than anyone can imagine. The First Dwarves retreated
eastwards, their numbers dwindling until there were so few left. The Trûlhalan and Trûlhale were either
slaughtered or forgotten. Those left behind tried the Upper-World, searching
for a new life. I am one of the few who remained.’
‘Who remained?’ Gidwyn said, his eyes wide. ‘Ye were there with the
First Dwarves…? How old are ye, if ye don’t mind me askin’, tha’ is.’
Daia nodded her enormous head
slowly. ‘Nine-thousand four-hundred and seventy-six.’ Her half-smirk appeared
on her face again. ‘You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve seen.’
Gidwyn’s mouth fell open; he
almost lost the mouthful of stew he had been chewing whilst Daia spoke. ‘How?’
‘I am one of the last pure
trolls,’ Daia said. ‘Not one of these inbred, hideous things you spoke of. We were built to last, and, like these halls,
lasted I have.’
As Daia finished, she raised her
hand and gestured to the walls around them. Gidwyn looked away from his bowl of
warm stew and saw the walls properly for the first time. They were etched with
great carvings: an enormous smith wearing a crown of stars and planets, smote a
great anvil from which creatures came: Elves and Dwarves, who walked in long
columns across the walls, through forests, beneath mountains, beside the seas.
And then there were Dwarf-kings and queens: bearded Dwarf-men and fair
Dwarf-women in great crowns, carrying swords and shields wrought with bronze.
‘Where am I?’ Gidwyn managed to
say, his spoon halfway to his mouth. ‘Wha’ is this place?’
‘The fortress-city of
Skurgasz-Jolturas,’ Daia said, her stone-grey face creasing in a look of
melancholy. ‘Jewel in the crown of the old Hrudunni.’
Daia took a deep breath and sighed. ‘Halls that once rang with song now only
hiss with the whispers of the Yaghu.’
‘Yaghu?!’
Gidwyn started, setting aside his bowl. ‘The Yaghu are here?’‘Yes,’ Daia said slowly, her slab of brow descending low over her dark eyes. ‘What business does an Upper-Worlder have with the Yaghu?’ Daia shook her head. ‘You’re the second these past weeks.’
‘If ye’re nae gonna ‘urt me,’
Gidwyn began nervously, ‘I dinnae suppose ye could ‘elp me get back to the
surface? Ye see, I’m after me daughter. She was taken by the Yaghu, an’ I was
trackin’ ‘em when I fell down the crevasse an’-…’
‘And any tracks you were
following will be long gone, my little Snow-Dwarf,’ Daia said. ‘You’ve been
unconscious three days.’
‘Three days?!’ Gidwyn gasped, leaping to his feet. ‘My Kiryae will
be gone! Long gone!’
The she-troll frowned.
‘Kiryae?’‘My daughter,’ Gidwyn said, panic rising in his chest. He looked around the carved chamber he was in with Daia. ‘I ‘ave t’ find ‘er! The Yaghu took ‘er!’
Daia’s dark eyes narrowed. ‘What colours did they wear?’
‘Colours?’ Gidwyn cried, gesturing wide with exasperation. ‘Wha’ does it matter? The Yaghu ain’t like Men, Elves or Dwarves, wearin’ colours to identify ‘emseves! I need to be lookin’, scourin’ the snow for any sign! I cannae lose ‘er!’
‘It matters a great deal, little Snow-Dwarf,’ Daia said, her gaze hardening into a disapproving glare. She folded her enormous arms across her broad chest and glared down upon Gidwyn. ‘For in this area of the mountains, even this deep underground, the snow-hare proliferates. Your meal,’ she gestured to the bowl, ‘is filled with snow-hare. What colours were the Yaghu who took your daughter wearing?’
Gidwyn blushed and looked at the
floor. ‘They were wearin’ white furs to be disguised against the snow,’ he said
quietly.
‘And you must know what colour
snow-hares are?’
Gidwyn swallowed. ‘White,’ he
whispered.
Daia’s hard face cracked into a
sly grin. ‘Then it appears you may be in luck. Skurgasz-Jolturas is home to a
large group of Yaghu who call themselves the Sy’ith Feld.’ The enormous she-troll pulled a face as she said the
words. ‘I’ve no idea what their name means in their foul tongue, but I doubt it
to be anything pleasant.’
Gidwyn clasped his hands together
and wrung them in front of the she-troll. ‘Thank-ye for yer ‘elp, Ma’am,’ he
said, ‘an’ thank-ye fer the meal, but I really must be goin’, I cannae leave my
sweet Kiryae in the ‘ands of the Yaghu.’
Daia nodded. ‘I understand,’ she
said, her voice suddenly gentle, ‘but you will not survive your journey through
Skurgasz-Jolturas.’
‘I ‘ave nae choice,’ Gidwyn said,
looking around the room for an exit – there, on the far side of the chamber, he
could see an enormous, carved door. ‘I willnae survive the rest o’ my
designated days if I do not find ‘er. I’ll nae be able to live wit’ meself.’
Gidwyn’s attention was drawn back
to Daia as the sound of something heavy being lifted echoed around the chamber.
‘I understand,’ she said as she lifted a warhammer as large as a man from
beside the fire and slung it over her shoulder, ‘which is why I, as the last
guardian of Skurgasz-Jolturas, would be honoured to escort the only Dwarf
currently in this ancient city to his destination.’
Gidwyn’s mouth fell open.
‘Ye’d-…ye’d ‘elp me?’
‘It would be an honour,’ Daia
said. ‘You would be the first Dwarf to do me such kindness in several thousand
years.’ She paused, her dark gaze suddenly becoming wistful. ‘Those more recent
encounters with travellers and adventurers have been somewhat hostile,’ she
said, touching a spot on her plate armour where Gidwyn noticed there was a
chip. ‘I swore an oath long ago never to harm the Halflings, so I could do
little more than flee…’
Arrows, maybe, Gidwyn thought as he looked at the dent in Daia’s
heavy armour. Or per’aps a sword-blow. He
managed an aching smile up at the she-troll. ‘Well, I’m very grateful fer yer assistance.’
Daia smiled down at Gidwyn, her
lips twisting around her stone-like tusks. ‘I am touched, little Snow-Dwarf,’
she said. ‘It has been too long since I walked side-by-side with one of your
kind. Please, allow me to show you the way.’
The she-troll turned and lifted a large burning length of wood from the fire. She held it
above her head: her black hair, braided like that of a Dwarf, shone in the
glow, whilst the flames cast long shadows of her grey-dark skin, the mottles,
scars, and nicks in her flesh all harbouring deep shadows. She was truly
fearsome to look upon.
The she-troll crossed the dark
chamber to the door Gidwyn had noticed. Hoisting her hammer over her shoulder,
she pressed her free hand against the enormous door and pushed. A huge,
groaning creak sounded as ancient
wood scraped over old stone, and echoed away through the darkness beyond.
And what a darkness it was.
Beyond the doorway, Gidwyn could see nothing more than shadows. Darkness untouched
by the light of day or that of a torch for thousands of years pressed thick on
all sides as a lightless world stretched away before him. He felt a shiver run
through him as he thought of the terrors that lay in the shadows beyond. Sharp teeth, black eyes, bone-coloured skin,
all hidden by the gloom. Gidwyn shuddered.
‘Once
upon a time,’ Daia said from where she towered over Gidwyn, ‘Dwarves could see
in the dark. Legend has it you all also had black eyes and skin as dark as
coal. But time changes a great many things.’Gidwyn swallowed. ‘I’m glad yer on my side,’ he mumbled.
‘And who else’s side would I be on?’ Daia said, her enormous, grey face creasing into a small smile. ‘It has been ages since I last saw a Dwarf, but I remember my oaths. Come now, little master, let us find your daughter.’
And so, hoisting the brand aloft in one hand and carrying her huge warhammer in the other, Daia led Gidwyn into the darkness, the light from their torch pushing against the ink-black shadows around them.
*
Gidwyn had never known darkness like that which infested Skurgasz-Jolturas.
It was palpably thick, almost like water. Gidwyn felt as if he were having to push through it. An’ jus’ wha’ does it hide? he found himself wondering as he looked at the blackness swirling around them. A cavern the size o’ a city, most like? Or does it go on forever? ‘Ow far down are we, even?
As he walked through the tunnels
and streets, Gidwyn could only just be aware of the enormous expanse of
long-dead civilisation around him. Though the light from Daia’s burning brand
was bright and wreathed the passages and halls through which they travelled in
golden light, Gidwyn could tell it revealed but a pinprick of the world lost
beneath the mountains.
And what passages and halls they
were. Squat buildings wrought in smooth stone carved with intricate geometric
patterns rose and fell on either side of where Gidwyn and Daia walked. Their walls were studded with
lead-lined windows of dust-covered glass. Through the cracks, Gidwyn could make
out tables and chairs, unused for thousands of years. There were carved pewter
dishes, thick with dust, and cutlery of the finest craftsmanship.
Then a statue would loom through
the gloom, enormous and indomitable, as tall as twenty Men. A Dwarf, beard
bejewelled and gilt in gold and silver, would tower above them, the precious
metals wrought across its complexion catching the light thrown by Daia’s torch.
‘D’ ye know who these folk are?’
Gidwyn said, stopping to look up at one of the enormous statues.
Daia shook her enormous head, her
braided hair bouncing around her shoulders. ‘No,’ she said, her grating voice
wracked with sorrow. ‘When I was made, the First Dwarves were already breaking
and their numbers dwindling. Tales of old, of paragons and kings, of queens and
heroes, were already fading from memory.’ She paused to look up at the huge
statue. ‘What I would give to have lived and fought in the times of the First Dwarves…’
She trailed off for a moment, her eyes wistful, but then turned to look at
Gidwyn. ‘But my mission today is an honour itself.’
Gidwyn grinned. ‘Thank-ye, Daia,’
he said.
‘But come,’ she said, ‘and take a
look at this.’
Daia led Gidwyn further into Skurgasz-Jolturas,
their footsteps echoing endlessly through the darkness. Despite the pressing
blackness around him, Gidwyn felt less afraid with Daia by his side. The
enormous she-troll appeared to be keeping anything creeping through the ruins
at bay. Or they’re jus’ waitin’, bidin’
their time.
In the light of the torch, the
armour Daia wore took on new life. Each plate of the dark, masterfully-forged
iron was covered in bronze carvings depicting great battles and monstrous
creatures, many of which Gidwyn could not name. The head of the great warhammer
she carried was also decorated with similar markings – including an
open-mouthed Dwarf-face on either end.
A subtle change in the sound
their echoing footsteps made drew Gidwyn’s thoughts away from Daia’s armour and
back to the present. Before him, the she-troll was lifting her torch and Gidwyn
realised they had stepped from the streets of Skurgasz-Jolturas and into a
long, wide tunnel, its walls carved with a gold-plated scene that seemed to
stretch on for miles.
Beside him, Gidwyn could see a
familiar, enormous figure at work with a hammer upon an anvil. The Great Creator, he thought. If Kiryae were ‘ere, she’d no-doubt tell me
the Fire is the Great Creator or wha’ ever. He was unable to stop a sad
sigh escaping his aching nose. By the
Fire, I miss ‘er so…
Gidwyn turned his gaze back to
the walls and fixed his eyes on the carvings there to try and stop the
despondency setting in. I’m ‘ere, an’ I
can only go as fast as Daia’ll let me. We’ve gotta be careful, there could be
Yaghu about an’…
‘See here?’ Daia interrupted
Gidwyn’s thoughts, pointing up at the carvings. ‘These are the First Dwarves.’
Gidwyn was surprised, for the
Dwarves who stood around the great anvil did not carry weapons, nor did they
fight. Instead, in their stone-carved hands they held great scrolls and tomes.
Slowly, Daia led Gidwyn down the
long, cavernous hallway, and so the story of the First Dwarves unfurled before
Gidwyn’s eyes. The First Dwarves walked amongst the hills and the mountains,
side-by-side with tall, elegant Elves, recording all they found until one day
they headed beneath the mountains in great droves to build. Great kingdoms and
empires were formed, and Dwarves wearing crowns rendered in gold and jewels
rose to rule – and fell again.
‘This is amazin’…’ Gidwyn
breathed, looking up at the enormous carving before him. ‘So amazin’…’
‘Over the many millennia they
have lived, the Dwarves have built thousands of miles of empire, kingdom,
province, and duchy beneath the surface of the World,’ Daia said, pausing
beside Gidwyn to look up at the enormous wall-carving. ‘But the Dwarves fell to
fighting one-another, and Esdaria was rocked by catastrophes. Their numbers
dwindled and they fled, abandoning swathes of their former lands. It has only
been in the last few thousand years that the Halflings have started to find
their old lands again.
‘But this place,’ Daia said, ‘is
dark and deep. It is tucked away and far beyond the reach of most. I remain
here as its guardian in the hope that one day a new Halfling lineage will
discover it, and I shall be granted the purpose I was long ago denied.’
‘Wait,’ Gidwyn said, brow
furrowing. ‘Wha’ catastrophes are ye talkin’ about?’
Daia gave Gidwyn a long, sad look
and continued walking. As she went, the flame from her torch continued to illuminate
the enormous carvings along the hallway. After a while, she stopped and turned
her gaze up to the wall again. ‘I was as yet unmade before this time,’ she
said, lifting a huge, grey hand up to gesture at the wall. ‘Apparently, the
whole of Esdaria bled until there was almost nothing of it left.’
Gidwyn looked up at the wall.
Images of Dwarves in crowns, of Gnomes creating delicate jewels, and of Dwarves
marching to battle, side-by-side with gigantic trolls disappeared. Instead came
fire. Huge tongues of gold and amber wreathed the walls, devouring stone-carved
forests and washing over chiselled mountains. Figures – both Elven and Halfling
from what Gidwyn could see – burned in the flames, whilst over all hung an
enormous black shape with golden eyes.
‘A dragon,’ Gidwyn breathed.
Daia nodded. ‘And that was not
all,’ she said, gesturing beyond the dragon to where, quite suddenly, the
carving stopped and the wall became bare. ‘Terrible wars broke out across the
Upper-World some three-thousand years ago. The Elves quite suddenly annihilated
each other in a terrible conflict that dragged on for centuries. In the
aftermath, there was almost no-one left. Then, Men appeared. But it was too
late for my charges.’ Daia paused. Pain flickered across her features. ‘They
were long dead.’
Gidwyn nodded. ‘Incredible,’ he
breathed. ‘Absolutely incred-…’
‘Hush,’ Daia said suddenly, her
voice low.
Gidwyn froze. In the expanse of
darkness and silence around him, the only thing he could hear was the crackle
from Daia’s torch and the hammering of his own heart.
Until he heard something scrape.
It was the faintest sound – like
a nail along a stone ledge. Gidwyn slowly turned, suddenly prickled by a cold
sweat. Behind him lay only darkness – shadows that reached high up the enormous
carved wall that ran behind him.
And then, one of the shadows
moved.
Before Gidwyn had time to scream,
a figure leapt from the shadow. He saw bone-pale flesh, white snow-hare fur,
and a horrid hooked dagger. Sharp teeth barred at him, black eyes shone through
the gloom, the Yaghu raised its dagger to stike.
But before the Yaghu’s weapon
could find its mark, Daia’s huge hammer swung past Gidwyn and caught the Yaghu
square across its chest. A terrible, churning smack rung through the darkness, and gore burst around Daia’s
hammer as if she had struck a goat-bladder full of blood.
Gidwyn let out a shriek as the
Yaghu burst in front of him, the stones around them becoming slathered in blue
blood. His scream was drowned out by hissing cries that came from everywhere at
once as more Yaghu emerged from the shadows, all dressed in white furs.
Suddenly desperate and afraid,
Gidwyn grabbed the Yaghu dagger his attacker had dropped and held it before
him. The creatures were closing fast, stepping from the pressing darkness just
beyond Daia’s torch and into the ring of light thrown around the hallway. Their
teeth were barred and their clawed fists were clutching a variety of barbed
weapons: swords, daggers, spears, axes.
Oh, Fire preserve me! Gidwyn thought as one of the spear-wielding
Yaghu charged for him. But as it did, a colossal roar shook the hallway and again Daia barrelled into view, her
enormous hammer swinging in one hand, the burning torch whirling in the other.
The Yaghu that emerged from the shadows were sent spinning back into the darkness
as fast as they came – the spear-wielding Yaghu attacker was struck in the side
of the head by an enormous blow, his skull collapsing in an explosion of blue that
splattered across Gidwyn’s face.
More came. Dozens of Yaghu burst
from the shadows, wrapped in white rabbit-furs, clutching razor-sharp, barbed
weapons. They hissed and howled as they swarmed towards Daia, lifting their
savage weapons. Gidwyn was forgotten as the swarm of Yaghu came surging towards
the she-troll.
But Daia was unfazed by the surge
of attackers. Her huge hammer swung from left to right, sweeping through the
Yaghu like a farmer’s scythe through ripe barley. They fell in droves, dozens
of mangled bodies and twisted faces reeling back into the darkness of the
tunnel.
Gidwyn could only watch on, mouth
open in awe. He had never seen such raw strength before in his life.
Quite suddenly, the Yaghu stopped
their advance, hesitating on the edge of the light thrown up by Daia’s torch.
Then, as a single body, they turned and fled yelping and shrieking into the
darkness. The sound of their footsteps retreating into the shadows quickly
faded to nothing.
Gidwyn looked around at the
twitching carcasses: shattered limbs attached to wrecked bodies spasmed out the
last vestiges of the life-forces still bound inside them. The carved walls were
splattered with blood, and the Yaghu’s many bodies were mangled into wretched
piles of pulp, the white furs they wore stained blue with blood. Their pale
corpses were scattered across the hallway, the whole scene lit in the eerie
orange glow from Daia’s torch.
‘Tha’ was-…’ Gidwyn stammered,
his wide eyes scanning the carnage. ‘Tha’ was amazin’! Ye jus’…jus’…’
‘They know we’re coming,’ Daia
said, hoisting her bloody hammer back over her shoulder. ‘We need to move
quickly.’ She paused to wipe some blue gore off her arm and pulled a
disapproving face before turning to continue onwards, leading Gidwyn by the
light of her torch. ‘Why anyone would want to do business with such disgusting
creatures is beyond me.’
‘Business?’ Gidwyn said, rushing
to catch up. ‘Wha’ d’ ye mean?’
‘Did you not hear me earlier?’
Daia said as she led Gidwyn onwards through the darkness. ‘I said that there
have been a number of travellers this way recently, the last only a few days
ago.’
‘Were they adventurer sorts?’
Gidwyn asked. ‘I sometimes ‘ave ‘em come to me farm on the surface before they
set off to search the mountains.’
Daia shrugged her massive
shoulders. ‘They did not look like adventurers to me,’ she said. ‘They looked a
little like you – Snow-Dwarves.’
Dwarves? Gidwyn thought, his brow furrowing. No Dwarf would go this far north without comin’ upon my farm. We’d ‘ave
seen ‘em passin’ through, for sure!
‘But come, little Snow-Dwarf,’
Daia said, ‘we’ll get nowhere standing here, and every moment we wait sitting
here, the closer the Yaghu shall get.’ She paused for a moment, her jet-black
eyes searching the shadows, her slab of brow furrowing dangerously. ‘And make
no mistake, they are coming.’
Gidwyn opened his mouth to speak,
but as he did he heard something hiss in
the distance. His fist tightened around the dagger in his hand as he lifted his
gaze to meet Daia’s.
The sound grew larger and larger
as the Dwarf and the she-troll stood in the light of their torch listening.
What began as a hiss – as tranquil and quiet as a summer breeze caressing the
snow – slowly grew. It came slowly at first, rolling like a wave over the
darkness-shrouded buildings beyond the hallway and gathering like a cloud over
the ancient city. It rumbled and
snarled, its echoes growling down the carved corridor where Gidwyn and Daia stood
listening.
But then it moved. A wall of
noise burst into the corridor, getting louder and louder as it got closer and
closer, until it became a roar – a roar in which Gidwyn could hear hundreds of
snarling voices.
‘Run!’ Daia roared.
Gidwyn did not need telling
twice.
He turned and fled down the long
carved hallway whilst the light from Daia’s torch shone in the dark eyes and on
the glistening white fangs of the horde of Yaghu behind them.
Gidwyn
would have screamed if he could, but the terror that gripped him choked him
into silence. His legs whirled as fast as they could, carrying him further and
further down the carved tunnel as Daia stormed off ahead, her long legs
carrying her away twice as fast as Gidwyn could run. The light cast by the
torch she carried began to fade as she pulled further and further ahead.‘D-…Daia…!’ Gidwyn tried to wheeze. ‘Slow! Slow-…I cannae…I cannae keep-…’
The first arrow clattered past him, skidding across the shadowy stones to his right. Gidwyn let out a cry of terror as another whizzed past him – then another and another.
In front of him, Gidwyn saw Daia turn as his cry rang down the hallway. Her rock-grey face fell in horror and she turned and began to charge towards where he ran.
Pain washed through Gidwyn.
The Dwarf screamed as he felt something struck him in the back. He stumbled forwards as pain blossomed up and down his spine. An arrow, he thought. I’ve been hit! But he could not stop running, for the Yaghu were closer than ever.
But then another arrow struck Gidwyn – this one punching through his heavy cloak and the layers of wool and leather he wore beneath and lodged itself firmly between his shoulder blades. Gidwyn could only gasp as he fell forwards, collapsing onto the cold stone floor.
He was aware of Daia roaring as she arrived at his side and stood over him, her enormous hammer swinging. He could smell blood and gore on the cold, still air – could feel Yaghu blood and entrails splattering over him. But it was all numbed by the agony blossoming from the two arrows stuck firmly in his back.
He tried to reach around and get hold of the shafts, but could not. Every move he made sent waves of pain through his body, and nausea and dizziness washed over him.
Not now, Gidwyn thought as he tried to grasp the arrow in his back. No, not now…we must be so close…Kiryae…
‘Daia…’ Gidwyn managed to gasp. ‘Daia, ‘elp me…’
But there was little Daia could do. She swung her enormous hammer and her burning torch, scattering Yaghu in every direction, but there were hundreds of them. Her hammer was drenched in blood and Yaghu entrails slathered the walls and the floor, but the creatures did not stop coming.
Soon, they were overwhelming the great she-troll, grabbing hold of her arms and legs, tripping her and forcing her to stumble. As she did, from somewhere in the whirling melee around the great she-troll, one of the Yaghu produced a thick chain with a savage hook on the end of it.
Daia roared as the hook was sunk deep into her thigh and, at last, fell hard onto the stone. The Yaghu leapt onto her like wolves upon a carcass: her hammer and torch were torn from her hands and cast aside, and with the heavy chain entangling her, the Yaghu set to work binding her arms and legs.
Twisting in pain and fury, Daia fought her captors for as long as she could, but it was no good. The Yaghu’s rope was strong and the hook in her thigh was deep. Every move, every writhe and desperate turn she made dragged the hook in her thigh further and further through her flesh.
Gidwyn, for a moment, found himself forgotten. Pinned by the arrow between his shoulder blades, there was little he could do to move. As he lay on the stones, he began to hope he had been forgotten. A she-troll is a greater reward…per’aps they’ll drag ‘er off an’ I’ll be forgotten…then I can…I can…
I can what?
Agony rippling through his body, Gidwyn could barely lift his head. He tried to drag himself into the shadows, clawing at the stone with his hands, but every movement sent more and more pain burning through his back. I’ve got nae choice, he told himself. Putting one hand in front of the other, slowly but surely he began to drag himself away from the pack of screeching Yaghu whom were dancing around where Daia lay roaring, struggling against her bonds.
Every inch sent pain lancing
through Gidwyn’s body. He clenched his teeth and screwed up his face to stop
himself screaming in pain. But he was moving, slowly yet surely. Just a lil’ further, he thought as he
tried to drag himself away, deeper into the shadows. Just a lil’ further…
Something
placed a foot on his back and pressed. Hard.Gidwyn screamed as the wound between his shoulder blades throbbed with renewed vigour. Behind him, someone laughed – a long, low, hissing laugh.
Gidwyn managed to lift his head up to look at the figure standing over him. A bone-white face leered down at him, a thin-lipped mouth full of sharp teeth was surrounded by crude iron rings. A thick brow above jet-black eyes was lined with the same crude rings that bounced and dangled as the familiar-looking Yaghu laughed.
‘You…’ Gidwyn breathed.
‘I did not expect to see you
again, little Dwarf,’ Saark said, his pierced face twisting into a horrible
sneer. ‘I am surprised. Next time I shall have to make sure I kill you properly
– put a knife in your belly, perhaps, or maybe just cut your bearded head clean
off your shoulders.’
‘Wha’-…wha’
‘ave ye done wit’ Kiryae…?’ Gidwyn wheezed.‘That Elf-thing you call your daughter?’ Saark said, his black eyes narrowing. ‘I wouldn’t worry about her, you’ll see her soon enough – provided you survive the trip.’
Saark began to laugh again as someone began to wrap a rope around Gidwyn’s ankles. There was nothing he could do to fight back, only mumble pained protests as he felt his legs bound. Beside him, Daia continued to roar and struggle, the hook in her thigh tearing deeper and deeper into her flesh with every convulsion and flail of defiance.
Before Gidwyn knew what was happening, three of the Yaghu had taken hold of the rope around his legs and he was being dragged along the cold stone floor, back through the carnage Daia had wrought upon the Yaghu ranks. Bits of body and great pools of blue blood soaked the stone floor, but it had not been enough to save them. Beside him, a good three-dozen Yaghu grabbed a number of ropes attacked to Daia and began to haul her along, the she-troll continuing to roar in pain and anger as she was dragged.
The burning torch Daia had carried with them was left discarded amidst the corpses of the Yaghu the she-troll had slaughtered. Its flickering light cast long shadows of the mounds of blue-blooded Yaghu flesh and broken, gore-seeping bodies. It was a grim and disgusting scene, but as Gidwyn was dragged off into the darkness, clawing at the bloody stone, he longed for the fire – longed for the light. For he knew all that awaited him wherever the Yaghu were taking him was darkness.
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