Twenty-second of Nirakos
Year 1182 of Emancipation
It had taken four days to reach Nimura after leaving Svaleta’s capital. Belkai and Greywall travelled in an enclosed carriage similar to the one that held Davos, though Greywall’s was adorned with the golden pillars that symbolised the Five Mountains. Unbeknownst to them, they were only a day behind Adrianna – Belkai would never have agreed to stopping of a night had she known. The final night of their journey was spent a few miles short of the Tios Principality’s southern border. The Dwarven driver found a copse of trees and stopped so they could set up camp. As always, Greywall waved for Belkai to sit as his driver disappeared to hunt for some food for the night.
“I never did ask,” Belkai said, “but why do dwarves use common names?”
Greywall thought for a moment before he answered. “I suppose it’s superstitious from a human perspective. But Dwarven names are sacred, meant only for those in their clans. To reveal them to outsiders is a violation of that covenant.”
Belkai nodded. “I understand that. So what do I call your king?”
“His common name is Stone-heart,” Greywall said. “He is a reasonable man, very old but wise. He was eager to regain our relationship with Narandir.”
“And you are his son.”
“Yes, his second-born,” Greywall told her. “Second in line to the throne upon his death.”
So Narandir is only worth the spare child, Belkai thought. She would have to keep that in mind.
“Is he hosting us in Mirzali?”
“I’m afraid not. I wish we could show you the glories of his balls, but no foreigner has ever delved beneath that mountain.”
Belkai could feel the wistfulness in his voice and accepted the answer.
“There is an old Palian ruin near Mirask that we use for diplomatic meetings,” Greywall hastened to add. “We should reach it by midday. The king will meet us there.”
The driver returned soon after and prepared some rabbits for their meal. He proved to be an able cook, and after the meal he said,
“If it pleases you, Milady, there is a stream nearby where you may bathe. I can keep watch.”
“Never let me discount the courtesy of dwarves,” Belkai laughed, but she knew the driver wished to speak to Greywall alone. So be it. “I can take care of myself, friend. But thank you.”
The dwarves bowed as she stood and made her way through the bushes to the stream. She closed her eyes and let her senses reach out. Content that she was alone save for some birds and insects, she slowly stripped off and slipped into the cool water. She lay back and allowed herself to float, feeling the water wash over her skin. She had a private lake of sorts in Narandir, one of the many kindnesses that the elves had bestowed on her. The first time she had been shown there was during the night. The moonlight had been washing over the water, and Davos had led her into the still waters. Now as she floated, she smiled at the memory and felt her eyes watering. She would stop at nothing to get him back. She would spring this trap and show no mercy to those who tried to stop her.
Something moved in the bushes, and she righted herself, treading water as her mind reached out. Just a wolf – an ordinary one, she assured herself. The animal slowly came out of the bushes and cocked its head as it studied the lady in the water. Two pairs of eyes met as each studied the other, both recognising a fellow predator. Belkai listened to the wolf’s breaths, tracked its heartbeat, and sensed its curiosity.
“We’re not so different,” she whispered. “You just know freedom.”
She sensed something in the branches above and acted instantly. There was a rustle, then a squirrel landed on the ground, its neck broken. The wolf looked from Belkai to the squirrel, as if understanding the connection, then took the body in its mouth and sauntered off into the bushes.
“Eat well, friend,” Belkai whispered, and pulled herself out of the stream. She dried herself with her cloak and pulled her clothes back on, giving the stream a last wistful glance before heading back to the others. They were already asleep by the time she joined them, slipping silently into her bedroll and enjoying the peace of the night.
***
They rose again early the next morning and boarded the carriage for the final leg of the journey. At first Greywall explained the basic protocols for meeting the king, then they spent the next few hours in silence. Belkai was beginning to fall asleep when Greywall shook her knee and announced,
“Behold the mountain of Mirask.”
Belkai was surprised by how big it was. It must have been several days’ hike to the summit, all of it through thick forest. She couldn’t see it from this distance, but she knew that Wexburg had built a town in the foothills that enjoyed the riches of the dwarven city.
“Where are the ruins?” she asked.
“About an hour from here. Not too far north of Mirask,” Greywall answered. “We will meet Stone-heart in what used to be an amphitheatre.”
Some regions revelled in their Palian ruins, Belkai knew. For those who still had knowledge of Palian culture, it was a badge of honour to understand their place in the former empire. Nimura had once been a stronghold against the southern deserts, and it seemed to have been one of the last regions to fall to whatever force had destroyed the empire. Even the new generation that settled the mountains took pride in that fact. They were a hardy people, at least in their own minds, and saw the mountains as a symbol of their own sturdiness. Every region had to have its myths, Belkai guessed. The Svaletans described themselves in the same way, but there weren’t many stories about orcs raiding Nimuran settlements. She had never considered Wexburg to be an overly troubled kingdom, though it enjoyed its prosperity and maintained a significant army.
She was so lost in thought that she almost didn’t notice when they passed the crumbled foundations of two guard towers. The road became rough, and more whitewashed stones came into view.
“From what we have uncovered, the city was under siege when the Palians fell,” Greywall said as he watched the landscape go by. “It was a significant battle. As best as we can tell, none of these buildings were destroyed by time. Every one of them has battle damage of some sort.”
“Did you ever determine who their enemy was?”
“No evidence was left behind,” Greywall answered. “It’s as much a mystery to us as to anyone else, even though we have more ruins in Nimura than any other known region, except maybe the wastelands west of the Aliri. The answers to the mysteries lie on the northern coast, not that anyone has ever managed to survive that journey.”
“One day the secret will be revealed,” Belkai told him. “I would wager that we may not like the answer.”
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Greywall didn’t respond as the carriage passed through an ancient gate and came to a stop. He glanced at Belkai, who was strapping her longsword to her back.
“You won’t need that,” he told her, but she shook her head.
“Until I’m back in Narandir, I won’t take one step unarmed.”
“No Brilhardem is ever unarmed,” Greywall pointed out, and Belkai smiled.
“A longsword makes that clearer than a stern look,” she pointed out. There was more to it than that, and it was the reason why Brimur had insisted on hiring an orc to provide weapons training. The power of the Brilhardem had always been their greatest weakness. To establish control over another, Belkai had to feel the whole person. It was never a matter of only sensing a heartbeat and shutting it off. She felt every emotion, every action. It hurt her to snap someone’s bone, but it was crippling to feel their life end. It wasn’t so long ago that the experience would make her pass out. It seemed that she wasn’t affected as much now, though the pain still remained.
Without another word, Belkai swung the door open and dropped to the dirt. There had once been a thousand seats in five levels set up in a circle around a central performance area. Most of what was left were chunks of rock and stone, with only two major sections left intact. Before them in the centre of the field next to a bronze statue stood five dwarves. Four held spears and formed a box around the fifth, an older dwarf with a rust-coloured beard. He held a golden sceptre with a diamond tip and looked at Belkai with open curiosity. She could sense a deeper hostility but was willing to accept that. Narandir had been a source of terror for centuries. It would take just as long for her to change that perception – if the Arcane would ever grant her peace. The dwarves’ offer of trade had been a surprising step towards healing, but it was only the beginning.
Greywall led her towards the group, and they both bowed low.
“My King, I am honoured by your presence,” Belkai said as she straightened. Stone-heart nodded.
“It is a rare privilege to speak to the Lord of Narandir,” the king replied. “Your predecessor was far less accommodating.”
“I understand, and I apologise for the suffering that Nimura has endured in the Forsaken Lands,” Belkai said. “In time I hope to prove that we now seek only peace.”
“A new leader does not change a millennium of pain.”
“But she can promise a future of healing,” Belkai told him. “Not just of broken relationships, but of all the hurts that Narandir can help.”
“Gods willing, we can live up to such ideals,” Stone-heart acknowledged. He showed no sign of being surprised by Belkai’s offer of charity.
“For now, I am grateful for you requesting my presence,” Belkai said. “Especially in such trying times.”
“Svaleta has suffered much in recent days.” The king’s face darkened. “It offends me that such beasts passed through my lands after causing such suffering.”
Belkai didn’t answer immediately, not knowing what he truly meant. He was offended, but he wasn’t angry. He accepted what had happened, though Belkai couldn’t understand why. Dwarves faced dark horrors in their caves and had more reason than most to despise vampires. So why his acceptance of their presence?
“Just two nights ago the human settlement at Morilam was devastated by werewolves,” he continued. “Whatever this plague is, it is spreading.”
Belkai frowned at the mention of the south-eastern mountain. What did Wexburg or Nimura have to do with Ashelath’s death? What reason did the Arcane have for striking out at them?
“As Greywall no doubt told you,” the king continued, “We tracked the vampires into the desert. We could do little more, but we can show you the path they took.”
“For that I am grateful.” Belkai glanced at Greywall, who seemed strangely tense. Something isn’t right. “Can I depend on your support should I require help in the desert?”
“I am afraid, Belkai, that we have already pushed the boundaries by sending those initial scouts,” Greywall answered, and the king nodded. “As you would know, the Mirzali Compact signed during the Palian reign forbid Dwarven armies from leaving the mountains. It was further ratified during the chaos of the Palian collapse. If a single soldier leaves Nimura without clear provocation, we face war with every kingdom on the continent.”
“Then why did you bring me here?” Belkai dropped the pretence, and she felt the king’s pleasure at the forthrightness.
“I wanted to look in the eyes of Ashelath’s killer,” Stone-heart growled. “And I wanted to see if that fire still burned in her heart.”
“The ones who sent those vampires stole my heart from me,” Belkai said with venom in her voice. “Yes, your majesty, that fire very much burns.”
Greywall shared a look with the king, and Belkai sensed the king’s approval – and caution.
“You will need that in the desert,” Stone-heart warned. “The land is cursed. The Svaletans came from there. They fled something, and the sands have buried anyone who ventured too far.”
“Except the vatriloi.” Belkai crossed her arms over her chest, and the king nodded.
“It is curious, is it not? I would like to know what is going on, Lord Belkai. You attract such strange attention, it seems.”
There was more to the king’s statement, and Belkai looked deep into his eyes before she answered him.
“Perhaps when I return I will have the answers to all of our questions,” she said. “If the Creator is willing.”
Greywall’s eyes shot up at the mention of the ancient god. “You serve Elkur?”
“All the Brilhardem do,” Belkai told him. “He gives us mastery over the living. Though your Lord of Shadows has always refused to acknowledge him.”
“The Arcane teach that they are the Firstborn,” Greywall replied. “There are none before them.”
“There was one,” Belkai said. “And the day is coming when he will reveal himself.”
“Save this for the theologians,” Stone-heart interrupted. “I have matters to attend to. Greywall, make sure Belkai reaches the deserts. Then return to Mirzali.”
“As you wish.”
Greywall and Belkai bowed as the king and his entourage marched out of the ruin. They glanced at each other and Greywall shrugged.
“It is only a day’s journey to the desert if we do not stop,” he told her. “I imagine that you want to get there as soon as possible.”
Belkai kept looking towards where the king had stood and nodded absently. “Take me there.”
“As you wish.”
***
Davos groaned as he slowly opened his eyes. He was seated on a sand-covered floor, slumped against a weathered stone wall. The room was adorned with golden paintings of flowers and figures bowing to the sun. His legs were tied at the ankles with thick rope, and his hands were bound together and hung over a steel rod embedded in the wall. A curse escaped his lips as he realised that Adrianna must have poisoned him again. He had no memory of anything that had happened after they had left the tavern. Yet there was no lingering pain or headache, the usual indication of such poisons.
“It was a particularly unique narcotic.”
His head jerked up at the sound of Adrianna’s voice. She stepped into the room through a hole in the wall which had once been a doorway. She leant against the far wall and crossed her hands over her stomach.
“Heals the wound to leave no evidence, and at the right dosage can knock out a fully grown man for a week.”
She smiled at the look in Davos’ eyes. “For you, Davos, it was only a few short days. Count yourself lucky. After two doses, I would have expected you to look much worse.”
“Where have you brought me?” Davos asked. Adrianna reached up and brushed a stray strand of hair from her face and smiled.
“Somewhere no one will reach us unless we allow them to.”
She stepped away from the wall and made her way over to him, kneeling before him so that their bodies were almost touching. She must crave physical touch, Davos thought, remembering her contact in the carriage. A hedonist in all ways. Adrianna leaned in close, her lips brushing his cheek, and whispered in his ear,
“We have set and baited our trap. Belkai will come for you. And when she does, I will kill her in front of you. Blood for blood. Brilhardem for Arcane. Belkai for Ashelath.”
Davos hid a surge of fear by laughing. As Adrianna drew back, he said, “You are a fool if you think that you will kill her. She will not fall for your trap.”
“The carriage was spotted leaving Svaleta and heading south. Vampires have been sighted moving south through Nimura. The drinkers in the tavern will spread rumours of the beautiful woman and her Svaletan lover.” Adrianna shrugged. “She will be desperate without you. She will follow any clue if it means that she might find you.”
“Ashelath underestimated Belkai,” Davos told her. “He paid dearly for that mistake. So will you, if you do not let me go.”
Adrianna leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together as she looked him in the eye. With a low, seductive voice she whispered,
“Don’t you worry about me, my darling. I will always endure.”
She stood, brushing herself against his face, and walked away with her hips swinging. Davos watched her leave, his mind racing. She had to be psychotic, he thought. There had to be a way to use that to his advantage. He looked around the room for something that he could use to free himself. He had to warn Belkai. For all his warnings to Adrianna, he had a feeling that his lover faced a bigger threat than he could imagine. There was something about Adrianna, a deeper fury that he didn’t understand. What are you, really? The walls gave no answer to his silent question.