Sons of Evil: Book 1 Book of Dread (24 page)

“Our clan leader, of course. You
are strangers here, and on our lands. Just wanted to see what you were up to,
and where you were going. If not for the brute, you as like as not would’ve
never been the wiser. We’ve been watching your group for three days.”

The thought that they had been
tracked for three days without knowing it made the hair on the back of Darius’s
neck stand up. “We meant no offense, and aren’t looking to trespass. We are
trying to go further north, but we need to find a way around these mountains.”

“What for? Isn’t anything up
that way but elves and—” The dwarf stopped, his eyes focusing on something past
Darius. His face sagged a bit, and he said, “I think your friend needs to see
you.”

Darius turned, and the look on
Adrianna’s face hit him like a cold, hard slap. He looked past her, where
Barlow and Silas were bent low, busy with some task. He glanced right and left,
hoping against hope to see Luke, but his ever-tightening stomach admitted the
grim reality of where he would find his brother.

Adrianna reached him just as
he started to move. “Darius, don’t,” she said, pulling him close to hold him
back and to comfort him.

He struggled once, briefly, to
shrug her off, but stopped himself. The last thing he wanted was to knock her
to the ground in a panicked rush to get to his brother. And the way she had
said those two simple words… He closed his eyes and let out a long, slow
breath. “Adrianna, please. I have to go to him.”

She knew it had been a vain
hope that she might ward him away, to spare him the sight. She squeezed him
once and stepped back, trying to hold back her tears.

She wasn’t the only one
crying. As Darius drew near, Barlow looked up, and tears rolled freely down his
cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he said, struggling to keep his voice from cracking. “He’s
too far gone for what skill we have.”

Darius now saw his younger
brother fully. The great stone the giant had hurled had driven him to the
ground, then rolled some distance away. Most of Luke’s chest was crushed into a
concave shape, and the upper part of his left arm was badly smashed as well. Blood,
fresh and bright red, trickled from his nose and mouth. Darius knelt slowly by
his side, reaching out tentatively with his hands but afraid of what his touch
might do.

Silas was kneeling as well,
holding Luke’s right hand and praying quietly with his eyes closed. He paused
and opened his eyes just long enough to let Darius know with a nod that he
should go ahead, then he went back to what he had been doing.

Darius placed the fingers of
one hand ever-so-gently on the side of Luke’s face. The skin felt clammy and
cold. At first Luke did not react to the touch, and Darius thought it was over,
but then he shuddered twice, turned his head fractionally toward Darius, and
opened his eyes. He managed a tired smile. “Funny thing. Doesn’t even hurt.”

Darius reacted to the words
with a puff of air that was half-laugh, half-sob. His vision blurred and he
squeezed the tears out, wiping them from his cheeks but not embarrassed by
them. “I don’t know what to say…what to do.”

“Don’t need to say anything,”
Luke replied in a voice like a faint wind. “Just see this thing through, for
Sasha.”

Darius didn’t want to commit
to that, to make a promise he wasn’t sure he could keep. Even if by taking the
book they had saved Sasha—and he had no way of knowing whether that was so—it
had now cost Luke his life. But he couldn’t look his dying brother in the eye
and disappoint him. “Luke, I’ll…”

Luke’s eyes were focused far
away, then on nothing.

Silas put a strong hand over
Luke’s forehead and eyes and spoke a few words. He closed Luke’s eyelids before
he took his hand away, then squeezed Darius’ shoulder. “I’m sorry, Darius.”

Darius just nodded once and
walked away, needing to be alone for a few moments.

The leader of the dwarven
party, who was named Burstel, approached Adrianna. “We’ll grieve your loss with
you in due time, miss, but with no disrespect, we need to get inside. That
large fellow is likely to have friends, and we won’t get the drop on them as
easily.”

“Of course,” Adrianna replied.
“Our thanks, for your help, and your hospitality.”

Burstel bowed and took a step
back. “We’ll lead on as soon as you’re ready, but please do be swift.”

Adrianna repeated the conversation
for Barlow and Silas, but only after looking at Luke one last time, a shudder
passing up her spine at the harsh reality of his broken body.

“Don’t know much about
northern dwarves,” Barlow said. “Can we trust them?”

“I’m sure they’ll want to know
why we’re here and where we’re going, and that in itself is a problem,” Silas
answered. “But I don’t see we’ve got much of a choice. If we stay here we’ll
have parties of giants searching for us. I’d rather take my chances with the
dwarves, and better as guests than prisoners.”

“We won’t be sure we’re guests
until it’s time to leave,” Adrianna pointed out.

Silas shrugged. “Can’t argue
the point, but there’s not much we can do about it either.”

“What about Luke?” Darius
asked. He remained a dozen steps away with his back to them.

They looked at one another,
not sure how to answer.

“We need to bury him,” Darius
said, turning around now. “I’m not leaving him here for the scavengers or for
some of the giant’s friends.”

While the others had been
keeping their voices down, Darius spoke in a stronger tone, wanting to be
heard. Burstel was within earshot, and it was he that answered. “It would be
our honor to bear your friend inside, where he can be prepared for his passage
beyond while a proper site is found. A cairn of stones here won’t stop those
big brutes from…if you take my meaning.”

“He was my friend and my
brother, by blood and deed,” Darius said, his gaze firm and locked with
Burstel’s, measuring the dwarf, measuring his sincerity. He sensed he could put
his faith in this stranger. “Let it be as you say.”

A few minutes later the
dwarves brought forth a litter and gently placed Luke upon it. Burstel looked
at Luke’s sword and then at Darius. “If you will allow me?” Once he had Darius’
approval, he took the weapon, placed it on what remained of Luke’s chest, then
folded the dead boy’s arms across it. “A warrior should be carried from the
field with his weapon,” Burstel said by way of explanation, and then to Luke’s
still form he added, “Rest well, fellow warrior, brother-at-arms. Your enemy is
slain, you are avenged, and your friends have won the day.”

They formed a single file line
that snaked deeper up into the foothills, Darius right behind the
litter-bearers. If the dwarves trod upon a known path, it was not visible to
their guests. As the slope grew steeper the mountains loomed ever larger,
threatening to blot out the sky. They came to a halt in a place apparently no
different than any other, but the lead dwarf, who was facing the sheer wall of
the mountain, suddenly pushed open a door, one so well concealed that the
companions doubted they could find it even if they knew where to look. The
entrance and hall, hewn from the rock by dwarven miners, extended only a few
feet before turning abruptly west, and then north again, where torches lit the
way. As the door slid closed behind them, they could hear the turning of some
ancient mechanism, and then the stone portal itself clapping shut like a tomb.

The hall they traveled was
narrow and sloped gently downward. Here and there one might spy small slits in
the rock, where watching eyes might observe or bolt be fired from sheltered
rooms. Clearly any enemy who might be lucky enough to stumble upon the doorway
would still have perils to overcome if he sought dwarven treasure. After
traveling some time, the visitors started to lose all sense of just how far
into and under the mountain they might have come. The torches had been spaced
such that they only provided the dimmest of light, but ahead several were
grouped, and a great iron portcullis was positioned as another obstacle to
unwanted visitors. Fortunately the gate was now open and the two dwarves that
guarded it simply stood at attention as the scouting party and their guests
entered the main dwarven hall.

For the visitors, the first
look at the hall was enough to steal their breath. Around the bases of the
great pillars that were spaced at forty foot intervals, torches were liberally
placed, so that the floor and lower portions of the hall were well lit, and
mixed with the comings and goings of dwarves at work and play, the place had
something of a welcoming feel, despite being carved from cold, hard stone. But
so great was the hall that the light from the torches could not reach the
ceiling, nor could one see the far end of the chamber. This umbrella of
darkness and the way even hushed noises echoed softly created a reverent
atmosphere, and stood as a stark reminder of the great mass of rock that hung
above them. The weight of all that rock, and the shadows that hid it, could
make one’s skin crawl with a hint of claustrophobia, regardless of how huge the
hall was.

Their arrival was expected. A
dwarf stood squarely facing them, with a set of three guards to each side. He
raised his axe in salute and said, “Welcome fellow warriors, to Amon Val, our
home. Its hospitality is yours. I am Durlag, king of this realm. I grieve for
your loss.”

“Thank you, King Durlag, for
your welcome and your kind words,” said Barlow. He unsheathed Gabriel, touching
the flat of the blade to his forehead in recognition of their host.

“I would be honored if you
would join me for dinner. In the meantime, you will be shown your quarters.” He
glanced toward the litter-bearers and Luke. “My people will prepare your friend
for burial, as is our custom, if you’ll allow it.”

Barlow turned to Darius, who
cleared his throat, nodded, and said, “Thank you, King Durlag.”

The king gave a quick bow and
with a few gestures started everyone in motion. The dwarf that was to show them
their rooms said, “Follow me,” while those bearing Luke started in a different
direction.

Darius paused, torn between
where he needed to go and where he wanted to go. He felt like he was abandoning
his brother, although he knew such was not the case. He was not yet grieving,
was still in shock over what had happened, the suddenness and finality of it. Some
irrational part of his mind still expected Luke to sit up, to laugh at the joke
he had played on his big brother, but as the dwarves moved away with Luke’s
broken form, that fantasy faded like a dream upon waking.

Adrianna took his arm. “Come
on, Darius.”

Done resisting, he let her
lead him away.

The king’s table, in size, was
as impressive as his hall, although on this night it was little used. The king
sat at the head, with his guests to his right and left and a few other dwarves,
his captains, seated beyond them. The food before them was hearty, and there
was more than enough, although Durlag felt led to apologize for setting such a
sparse feast before his guests. The crops and hunting had apparently been
little better in the north than in the south. While the food and those enjoying
it were huddled at one end of the room, the enormous table stretched off into
the distance. The visitors guessed over two hundred of the dwarves could be
seated there when times called for it.

Durlag let his guests eat in
relative peace, his questions not too probing, wanting to hear how things fared
in the south, and taking particular interest in the giants’ attack. He shook
his head and cursed these wicked days, fearing that the war might move into the
north, but he wore a mask of grim satisfaction upon hearing the giants had been
cast back. “Serves ’em right, the brutes.”

“Do they trouble you often?”
Adrianna asked.

“More of late. Everyone seems
to be in need these days, of food or land or something else. We’re safe enough
here, as they are high in the rocks above, but our scouting parties often meet
one of theirs and… Well, we’re both meant for fighting. Got it in our blood.”

After the food was cleared they
were left nursing their chosen beverages—water or thin ale, another sign that
things were tough—and Durlag lit his pipe. Through the smoke that curled around
his head he said, “Well, you’re not spies, nor do I think you’re a raiding
party or even scouts checking the giants’ defenses. You’re not dressed the
part. From the way my people tell me you were moving, my guess is you’re headed
further north.”

Silas smiled. “Your perceptive
abilities are quite keen.”

Durlag winked. “Helps if
you’re going to be king. I’ll not force it from you, but I’d love to know where
you’re heading.”

“Were trying to reach Queen
Aerlos.”

Durlag’s eyebrows shot up. “The
Ice Elves? Are you sure she’ll want to see you?”

“Well, we’ve not been
invited,” Silas admitted.

Durlag let out a low grumble. “You’ve
got that in common with the rest of Corterra. I don’t suppose you’d like to
share what business you might have with Aerlos.”

“I’d prefer not, with all due
apologies. You’ve been a most gracious host.”

Durlag waved the apology away.
“As I will continue to be. Person’s got a right to keep their business to
themselves if they want. As long as you don’t mean harm to me or mine, then you
can be on your way whenever you’re ready.”