The Eastern Dwarfs: Part Two - The Underground Journey Page 19

  “I see…” Bagard whispered.

  Ribs, the weasel, ran from inside one of the Montaron’s shirtsleeves, passed on the table and went back inside the clothes again, Krug was startled. “What? Was that a…” He muttered.

  “Rat? No.” Bagard intervened. “A weasel, and his name is ribs.”

  Krug just shrugged, the meal continued and they all dirtied their hands with grease, many burps and hisses from lips sucking poultry bones were heard, and they all ate in wealth, for the food was enough for three. In the end they were all satisfied, rubbing their bellies and cleaning their teeth with their tongues. Then the tavern door opened, from outside two figures showed, tall men, their faces covered by burkas; everyone inside the place looked out. The newcomers entered the place and went to the counter, being served by the keeper.

  “Strange figures aren’t they?” Bagard asked as he looked out.

  “Might be just servants of some lord from the Golden City, dealing with trade matters.” Krug spoke.

  But Montaron and Bagard looked at each other, as if suspicious.

  Krug slapped the table slightly and spoke: “Well my friends, may I one day be worthy of repaying you for this most pleasant dinner, but now I’m afraid I must leave, for I plan to take the road this night.”

  “Travelling at night can be dangerous. Where are you going?” Bagard asked.

  “I know a lady who is waiting for me in a nearby village, and how gross it is to make a woman wait for you, no, I must meet her as soon as possible, and I could face a thousand dangers for this!” Krug replied.

  “Fine, drink, eat and leave.” Bagard said.

  Krug raised from the chair. “Farewell my friends, and if some day we cross again, I’m sure there will be more camaraderie and drinking like we did today.” He left the tavern, going outside.

  “That was a shameless one.” Bagard spoke to Montaron.

  “I liked him.” The dwarf replied.

  “I know you did. One day your generosity will cost you too much, more than you are prepared to deal with.” Bagard continued.

  Montaron just smiled.

  “What am I talking about? Your generosity saved me once, Montaron, my friend, you are really a good dwarf, don’t hear the complaints of a grumpy lame old man like me. It seems that I’m forgetting about all the suffering we passed, and my heart is getting hard again, I must learn with you how to keep a light soul.” Bagard spoke.

  “How is your leg?” Montaron asked.

  Bagard now made a pained expression as he stretched his lame leg. “Not good, it was quite a demanding task to walk all this way till here since we escaped, my leg was not good before, and it is even worse now.”

  “We will rest soon.” Montaron said.

  “I really hope so. I’m not sure if we did the right choice when we sold the ram, I mean, now we have money and decent clothes, but that good animal could pull a cart with one of us on it when we got too tired. Ah! Whatever, better I stop complaining! Now I guess you are as willing to rest as me! But the rooms are at the other side of the inn, so there are still some more steps for us to walk before falling on a soft mattress.” Bagard spoke.

  They rose from the chairs and Montaron turned to wave to the keeper of the inn, he noticed the strange figures that entered the place moments before were not there anymore. Outside the tavern was a warming night with clear sky and many starts.

  “What a joyful night!” Bagard said. “Most pleasant it is to have the best of the companies alongside me! I think that deserves a song. Would you like to hear a song, my friend?

  Montaron nodded.

  “All right, let’s go.” Bagard spoke just before starting to sing:

  “Long lands of unknown dwellings,

  long folks which language I keep misspelling,

  bad folks of no respect,

  hard mattresses, nothing is perfect,

  cold food, sour beverage,

  not even the woman for you to encourage,

  but there is something you can count on,

  no singer with his voice, nor a cook with his apron,

  a friend it is, for this is most fortunate,

  to have someone with you, to share your fate,

  a real friend is worth a thousand gold coins,

  to bring relief to my tired loins,

  a friend can help you to carry the weight,

  assuring you will never get too late,

  for a friend is the most precious gift,

  of one travelling for shift.

  “Be joyful, Montaron! For we are friends!” He said after finishing the song.

  Montaron smiled. “Too much beer, I’m going to relieve.” He said.

  “All right, I’m not going to wait for you, my bed is waiting for me!” Bagard replied as he walked, circling the building as he hummered: “Soft bed, ta da… I’m coming… Soft pillow…”

  The village street was empty, there was no one around, and a strange silence reigned, Montaron stepped around trying to find a good hidden place to do his necessities, he walked for some moments distancing from the inn till he found a dark corner, there he hid, looking around as if expecting someone to be watching. But when he was about to relieve himself, he saw on the ground of that dark place something that made him freeze, the body of a dead man. As the dwarf checked his face, he came to know it was Krug, the one who just shared the dinner with him inside the tavern, in his face, a mark made by a blade, cut in the skin, like drawn in red blood, the symbol of the Black Viper Guild. Montaron quickly turned back as he drew his knife, getting into fighting stance, he looked around, expecting to see someone, but what saved him from being killed was what he saw on the ground, a shadow of someone moving up behind him, on the roof of the nearby building. Fast as lighting Montaron turned back already raising his knife, from the roof jumped a tall man, falling above him, the dwarf was smashed by the weight of the attacker, but this one was caught by surprise as he was not expecting Montaron to react, his own weight forced his body against the dwarf’s knife and he died instantly. The moan that sounded came from Montaron, somehow his attacker managed to wound him too, in his torso, the dwarf was now bleeding. He pushed the dead body aside and raised from the ground, bending as he held the wound, the blood leaking through his fingers, then suddenly he remembered about his friend. “Bagard!” He said to himself. Now the dwarf ran back to the inn and circled the tavern to reach the room where his friend went before, there he could see an open door with light coming from a small building, the room where they were supposed to sleep, Montaron entered it quickly and found there Bagard still standing, extending a blanket on the bed.

  “Soft mattress oh yes… Hey! What happened?” Bagard asked looking at him.

  Montaron saw a figure behind the glass of a window, he ran towards his friend and pushed him out of the way, fast enough to avoid a dart from hitting his heart, but still it hit the old man ribs.

  “Aaargh!” Bagard shouted in pain.

  The dwarf took a small table and threw it violently against the window, breaking the glass and making a loud noise, he raised Bagard from the ground and both left the room, walking while leaning on each other.

  “What was it?” Bagard asked as he held the dart threaded in his body.

  “Assassins!” Montaron exclaimed.

  Now both tried to run as much as they could, leaving the place towards a narrow wooden bridge above a strong torrent river, and they crossed the bridge while Montaron looked back to see if they were being followed, but he saw nothing coming after him. On the other margin, Bagard moaned and stumbled, falling on the ground, Montaron still tried to drag him but the man himself asked for him to stop.

  “Wait, wait…” Bagard said as he held the dwarf’s hand. “The dart went deep into my flesh… I can’t…”

  “We must go, they are Black Vipers.” Montaron spoke.

  “Black Vipers…” Bagard said with some difficulty, he now spat some blood. “Sent by the slave traders… Must be… I should know they wou
ld not give up us so easily.”

  The dwarf stopped hearing him as he saw on the other side of the river from where they came four figures staring at them.

  Bagard looked out too. “They will come… It is just that the bridge is too narrow… So they are… Planning the best way…” He spoke.

  “I can fight one after another on the bridge.” Montaron said.

  Bagard chuckled, spitting more blood. “I bet you could, my loyal friend. But I can’t do it anymore… My leg is done, and that dart came to put me down for once.”

  The dwarf all of a sudden turned daring, as if feeling an inner revolt, he raised his knife in the air, defying the assassins. The figures on the other side of the river just stood.

  “They will not give up…” Bagard continued. “They are like… Snakes, lurking, waiting for the best moment to kill…”

  For a moment Montaron looked into his eyes, forgetting about the assassins, he knew life was leaving his friend. “I can carry ye.” He spoke.

  “I’m sure you would try… Listen… Still one of us can try to achieve something great in this life… Don’t let them catch you Montaron, don’t give them this pleasure… Do like you used to when we performed in the fair… Just disappear, go, save yourself… Farewell, my friend.” Those were the last words of Bagard, he died there in the hands of his comrade.

  Montaron was now crying, he simply ignored his persecutors, his mind became empty as if he was not caring about the danger anymore, but suddenly something came in, he remembered about all the hopes and dreams of a better life he had shared before with Bagard. He rose gently resting his friend on the ground, stared at the four figures for a moment, then ran towards nearby woods, being instantly followed by the assassins who stepped on the bridge to cross it, the dwarf disappeared into the darkness.

  The night passed, and the sun came out, revealing a foggy morning. Montaron was advancing through bushes when he stopped to rest, the wound was not bleeding anymore, yet still hurting, he sat on a rock after looking around. On his mind all the confusion that the events he was living through caused, but one thing was certain for him, that the assassins killed Krug by mistake, or pure cruelty, their real targets were him and Bagard. Sitting there, tired, wounded and dirty, the dwarf cried a bit more remembering about his dead friend, a noise was heard in some dense bushes around, the dwarf quickly raised and looked out, his hand reached the knife on his belt, but nothing came nor any other sound was heard, expect for a bird flock flying nearby. Montaron began to walk one more time, he had no idea where he was going, the only thing in his mind was to escape the assassins, no matter how deep he would need to go into the wilderness. But if there was something that none could surpass the Black Viper Assassins in it was persistence, they would not give up till they found the dwarf, though these ones were quite careful and subtle in their ways. The day advanced and Montaron was now not only tired but also hungry, he walked down a long slope in an open field, finding it wiser to stay where he could see the surroundings, he knew that in a place with trees and bushes darts could fly against him coming from out of nothing. No signal of civilization could be seen, the village from where he fled was already a small place with just a few dwellers and now he was wandering thought a totally uninhabited area, Montaron was lost. He entered again the woods, for the open field had ended, there he sat at the foot of a tall tree to rest, breathing hard and sweating, the brown dwarf rested his hand on his wound. Ribs, the weasel, came out of his clothes and ran over his arms.

  “Be quiet.” Montaron spoke. He found close to one of his legs a plant that he knew, and pulling it from the soil it revealed a tuber, something he knew he could eat. With the help from his knife the dwarf began to peel it and then he cut it in discs, one came to his mouth and another one was given to Ribs, the small animal began to gnaw. It was then one more time Montaron heard something coming, for his ears were sharp, looking around he could see no place to hide, but as he looked up he decided to climb the tree, and so he did, as quick as he could. Already there on the top of the tree, he hid among the leaves and stayed motionless, looking down. For a moment only the wind sounded, passing through the tree branches, making them wave as the leaves stirred, then, down under the tree crown, on the ground, came the assassins, sneaking as if they were ghosts, silent like snakes they walked around the trunk. Montaron was totally quiet, breathing slowly, only his eyes moved following his persecutors down there. For some moments the assassins examined the place, trying to find marks on the ground, but luckily for the dwarf in the tree, the soil was hard, and the many rocks and grasses there showed no track of his steps. Then one of the assassins looked up, he glanced between the branches, trying to find something, Montaron could see his eyes, the only uncovered part of his face for all his head was hidden under the burka, and all them wore black, the dwarf now could even hear the beating of his own heart. But the assassins did not spot him, one of them who seemed to be the leader motioned to the others, and so they left, as silent as they came. For Montaron, that was the beginning of a long afternoon up in that tree, he did not come out from there, even after the assassins left, for he knew they could be sneaking around, and leaving his hideout was too risky, as he thought, there he passed the rest of the day, not eating anything, not even moving much, quiet, like an sleeping owl. It was just when night came that Montaron decided to go down again, the sky was clear, and one more time the stars shined above his head, there was a full moon lightening the tree crowns around, forming a mattress of leafs. When he first moved he felt how tight his muscles were after so much time motionless, and it took for him more effort to go down than to go up, for he was now exhausted. Back on the ground, the dwarf stretched himself and even moaned quietly as he felt pain in his wound. Light from the moon made the way possible for him, he did not have a torch or any way to make fire, nor he would do if he had, a light spot moving on the darkness would be an easy target for the ones looking for him. So he walked without seeing much and not really knowing where he was going, he reached a slope and went down it, then stopped for the way ahead was not ground anymore but water, Montaron was now facing a swamp. The light from the moon shined against the water surface, so dirty was the water that it actually looked like a thick broth, a strange green haze was floating above it and many dead tree trunks were inside, half flooded. The only sounds were coming from frogs and crickets, besides owls cheeps, Montaron turned to take the way back but right when he was about to leave, he saw dark figures coming from the bushes, the dwarf quickly looked back to the swamp margin and saw there half of a large floating tree trunk. Pushing it and jumping inside, he made it a boat and went into the pool, but the splashing water spread noise, the incoming figures were the assassins, and they heard it. The group gathered on the margin as Montaron advanced across the swamp, rowing as fast as he could with his bare hands, he heard the sound of darts hitting the water around him, but left unharmed.

  The assassins did not give up, they found their own way though the swamp, climbing on dead trees inside the pool, and jumping from one to another with an impressive skill, Montaron sped up, he knew they could hit him before he reached the other side of the swamp, not that he could see the margin anyway. Then all of sudden something stirred under the water, the dwarf quickly pulled his hands back, the trunk continued for a moment till it hit a tall tree, Montaron jumped from his boat and climbed it quickly, reaching its top, the water around was still stirring, as if something was moving under it. From afar the assassins could be seen, rapidly advancing as they jumped from trunk to trunk, Montaron knew that there was nothing he could do now, but he saw the moment when a trail of waves on the water went against the place where the assassins were, their movement was agitating the water, he drew his knife and prepared to fight as soon as his persecutors reached him, even without much hope.

  Just when he was about to raise and shout something to show his courage in daring the enemies, something happened, tentacles came from the water under the assassins, hitting and throwin
g them down, breaking the rotten branches and trunks, and the Black Viper ones became defenseless, water splashed everywhere, and finally when all them were already swimming, they started to shout horridly, like in great pain. Montaron knew something under the water was eating them, he stared at all the scene, frightened and wide eyed, while he firmly held his weasel pet in his hands. Silence reigned, the assassins were now dead, some had already disappeared, and some bodies were still floating, the water calmed down one more time, then Montaron saw the moment when the tentacles came again, now quietly enrolling the floating bodies and sinking them, never to return. The tree where he was perched was the highest one around, and a cold chill on his spine came when he thought that he would have the same destiny of his foes if he were a bit lower. One more time, the dwarf decided to stay quiet, he did not move, he breathed slowly, he even closed his eyes.

  A n unexpected meeting.

  Another week passed since Thuor’s company left Troco’s house and got back inside the mountain. They were now gathered around a bonfire for a meal, and Rurur served the last portions of salted pie he got from Kalinka, and the fact that it was still tasty only made them somehow rue having left the mountaineer’s family house to get back again into the gloomy cold cave. Montaron had his pet weasel on his arm, feeding it with small meat pieces while chatting quietly with the animal.

  “Does he understand what ye say?” Torag asked.

  “Sometimes he answers me.” Montaron replied.

  Torag chuckled.

  “Tell us, Montaron. Where have ye been during your journeys outside the Red Star City? I mean, before ye turned a slave.” Olaf asked.

  Montaron replied as he chewed a piece of the cake: “Arkara, Golden City, and far south, the lands of the corsairs.”

  “Lands of the corsairs?” Thuor asked. “Have ye been among the southern men?”

  “Yes.” Montaron replied.

  “But this is the most far to the south, ye would have to travel really long distances to get there, and then to come back.” The captain continued.