MARBLE 6.1: LIBERATED
“Delved they deep neath Din Dalor
Birthed fire-rubies, mithril ore
Fathers linger there no more
Quiet meres of Din Dalor
Cold in fathoms never found
Leagues in darkness underground
On the lonely hammer sounds
Yet my kin cannot be found
Ever-burning diamonds die
Bones and dust my forebears lie
Silent water slithers by
Under stars we do not die
Listen well and pay the price
Pay it once and pay it twice
All Mund’s gold will not suffice
Blood so bright we name the price
Hands unbound my axe will slice
Humans sore in last lost cry
Under ice red gold abounds
Rest thereby dark Din Dalor”
– from The Chant of the Winterdwarf Insurrection (903 NE), ‘Banned Texts’ 22nd collection
Grassland. It was strange.
I’d spent my entire life inside the walls of Mund. Reading books about the great outdoors was one thing, but actually being here was something else entirely. It wasn’t a feeling even the vast, fey-infested wilderness of Etherium could compete with. That place was surreal, formed out of expectation and bliss, psychic impressions – this, this was reality. Reality came with cowpats and buzzing flies, even as the world entered winter, not starlit sap and fruit-scented wind. Reality was the farms, redolent with the stench and snorts of livestock, stretching away down the rolling incline towards the sea – and Mund only got something like two percent of its food from local sources. Shearing through the landscape went the dark line of the Greywater, leading down to Salnifast, its marble arches and wharves, lighthouses and trade-halls glittering in the distance, almost as vivid as the walls of Mund behind us.
I’d spoilt them by flying them here, but we could hardly walk the whole way, struggle through the camps outside the walls with the wagons, could we? Considering my giddiness with extreme heights it went smoothly. The griffon-mounted watchmen on the battlements had waved me over for a quick identity check, but once they realised who I was they fell all over themselves in apologising and I was left to go about my business.
To be honest I’d been glad of the break, the chance to stand atop the wall near the Treetown Gate and look down on the surroundings without feeling ill. The frosted meadows leading down to the distant harbour were exquisite but it was pretty high-up and I couldn’t call on my wraith while carrying my brother and sister – I didn’t want their first flying session to be a boring, low-to-the-ground experience. Neither did I want them thinking I was actually scared of heights. I’d told them about my… fall in Tivertain, but I hadn’t exactly gone into detail on the ramifications.
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
Teeth gritted, eyes raised to the sky, I’d brought them out over the eastern walls and been glad of the chance to sink back to an elevation of fifty feet or so, once the guards were done questioning me and we were on the outside. We drew some exclamations from the crowds of the camps, but, of the thousands of immigrants we passed, those I overheard also seemed to be speaking positively of me.
It seemed being heralded the ‘Liberator of Zadhal’, thanks to the machinations of a certain arch-diviner, had its advantages. Even if I felt the title was too bit much, I was hardly going to deny myself the accolades – there simply was no way to do so. And I had worked pretty hard for it, to be fair… though I hadn’t realised at the time that I was going to make the history books.
The platinum the Magisterium provided in payment didn’t exactly go amiss either – a hundred plat, easily enough to be an obvious attempt at buying my silence.
The ‘Diamond War’, as it turned out they called it in those few library texts where it was mentioned, was shadowed in mystery, named but never explained. The fall of Zadhal, the Magisterium’s part in creating thousands of undead…
Yeah, right. It’d take a million plat to buy my silence on something like this. Not that I’d return the hundred, mind… I felt facing down a god-fragment and dozens of liches simultaneously was worth it, somehow.
Magisterium dropheads.
I was almost in a good mood as I descended to the ground, sylph-wings spread to slow our fall. I’d chosen a wild, untamed field on the slope of a hill, shortish grass all beautifully frosted over, bristling with with sparkling starthyme and surprisingly-resilient dandelions. I could probably have carried them another ten, fifteen minutes without too much hassle – Avaelar’s wings still weren’t quite as wonderful as wizard-flight, but at least they didn’t come with as strict of a weight-restriction. However, there was no need to go any further; this spot would be perfect.
“It’s so big,” Jaroan murmured, looking out towards the sea, held fast in my satyr-augmented right arm.
“I know, right?” Jaid’s voice was muffled by the scarf which she’d wrapped around her face to keep her nose warm, but I could tell she was more than a little nauseous. It was the first time she’d spoken since we left the wall – clearly she was feeling better now we were lower-down.
“Look, a rabbit,” I said as I set their feet to the ground.
“Where?” Jaid almost screamed in delight, suddenly perking up.
I pointed, and she instantly started sidling up to it.
“You’re not trying to assassinate it,” Jaroan snorted, then looked at her curiously, “are you?”
“I brought lunch…” I said.
“Just walk up to it!” my brother said, taking a step –
He didn’t even get halfway to Jaid before the rabbit was gone. I could track its movements, but the twins were casting about, Jaid berating Jaroan for his intrusion, Jaroan doing his best ‘it was going to happen anyway’ explanation of what had occurred; Jaid was too frustrated to listen to me or look where I directed her, certain it’d gone the way she went, and Jaroan simply scared it further by raising his voice, stamping his feet.
Sighing, I parked my cart on the grass and pulled a water-vial from my demiskin. If this carried on for much longer, I’d have to resort to Flood Boy and have a spot of wine…
“Come on, Jaid,” I called after a minute. She was almost in tears at her brother’s carelessness. “Remember Gilaela?”
“I don’t – the rabbit – I…”
Protests melted under the scintillating light of a glittering horn. Within a minute she was on the unicorn’s neck, trotting here and there – ‘Princess’ had reassured me there was no way she could let my sister be thrown. She seemed the type to take that kind of thing seriously, so I let it go, though I had a sneaky suspicion she was just worried if she didn’t say that I’d try to saddle her.
“Pick up any powerful new fey?” Jaroan asked, coming over and sitting beside me.
His jealousy of his sister was so obvious it almost made me smile.
“You mean aside from the unicorn?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Powerful?”
I nodded vehemently. “You have no idea. Without her…”
I didn’t even want to think about it.
“’Without her’ what?”
“Well, I’d have had a darn sight more trouble splashing through a river of deathknights and scaring off archliches without her help, so…”
I looked into his sceptical face, and sighed again. I could hardly tell him the details, could I? He had to see me as the champion, untouchable, not the bag of organs that had been split apart by a volley of nethernal fire despite my eldritch reinforcements.
Not the brother. Not really, anymore. The last few weeks had changed something between the three of us – put us on a different footing.
Then I remembered I did have an eldritch that would interest him. “Erm – yeah, actually – check this out.”
I produced a little green spark on my outstretched palm.
* * *