Valkyrie's Shadow

Stone and Blood: Act 2, Chapter 8

Stone and Blood: Act 2, Chapter 8

Chapter 8

“Are you mocking us, girl?”

“I assure you that my request is entirely genuine, Master Falagrim.”

This damn Human…

She was undoubtedly mocking them.

Just before dawn, Falagrim’s Deepwardens reported that the Undead were sweeping the area around his camp – or at least where they thought the camp was – presumably in an effort to find them. Given the generally poor scouting skills that the Undead possessed, that would likely never happen so Falagrim came out to see what they wanted. What he got was a slap in the face.

“We’re not interested in participating in a market with no profit,” he told the Human from the Sorcerous Kingdom.

“But you can profit in this market,” the Human insisted. “The quality of your craftsmanship is renowned amongst the tribes and you will not lack for customers.”

“There’s no profit to be had so long as you don’t allow us to take slaves as payment. Similarly, your gold means nothing if it can’t be used to purchase slaves.”

“You seem to value things other than slaves. The provisions we just delivered, for instance…”

“While we’re up here, sure, but our people are entirely self-sufficient. We have absolutely no need for food imports.”

“My Mountain Dwarf acquaintances clearly appreciate the quality of the Sorcerous Kingdom’s food exports. They also prize our liquor.”

Falagrim spat to the side in disgust at her characteristically bigoted statement.

“Dark Dwarves aren’t Mountain Dwarves, if you hadn’t noticed. We don’t drink. We could care less about your ‘food quality’. A bit of bread is all we need.”

“…by bread, do you happen to mean dwarven bread?”

He pulled out a chunk of bread from a belt pouch, slapping it onto the boulder between them. The girl started as the boulder shattered. Falagrim sneered at her display of frailty.

“What else would I be talking about?” He stuffed the bread back into its pouch, “Now, unless you’re willing to allow us to exchange our goods for slaves, we have nothing more to discuss.”

“In that case, what about using the Undead as security forces? Surely your people have their fair share of dangers to address?”

“We address those dangers ourselves. Didn’t I already say something about how foolish it is to use other peoples’ Undead for labour? What makes you think using them for security is any better? No matter how cheap you make them, the fact that they’re ultimately under someone else’s control is a dealbreaker.”

The damn girl kept bringing her Undead up as if his answer would somehow change.

“It is unfortunate that we couldn’t come to a mutually beneficial understanding,” the Human said. “But you and your company are always welcome to participate in our markets, should you change your mind.”

The sun would rise underground, first. With nothing more to say, Falagrim and his escort turned and left the Undead checkpoint, taking a roundabout route back to his concealed camp. The air shimmered as he crossed the threshold and he made his way to the central campfire where two grey robes awaited.

“We ready to go?” Falagrim said.

“The preparations are ready, my prince.”

He followed the pair to a rocky outcropping jutting out from the valley slope. Agni and several Merchants were gathered at its base. Falagrim eyed the baggage at the Cleric’s feet.

“Staying for a while?” He asked.

“Since we’re stalled here, it’s a good opportunity to take care of a few additional things. The appearance of this ‘Sorcerous Kingdom’ is concerning. We all saw how powerful Jaldabaoth and his minions were. I should see if there’s any mention of them in the histories and consult with the temples.”

Falagrim grunted in agreement. Given what they had seen, it was evident that the Demon Emperor had been replaced by something far worse.

“What about that Human Noble Necromancer Merchant or whatever she is?”

“She seems young, naive, and idealistic in the most foolish ways possible. Such individuals are easily manipulated.”

“That’s not what I was talking about.”

Agni bent over and picked up the bags against her feet.

“An offshoot, maybe,” she said. “Or a forgotten remnant. A lot of things would make sense if she’s an Imperial Arcanist. They can be everything she’s shown herself to be.”

“So nothing like a resurgence or a distant colony returning to restore their homeland?”

“I doubt it,” Agni said. “If it was anything as substantial as that, they would’ve wasted no time pulling everything back together again. It’s clear that no one in the region has inherited the strength and order of the old empire.”

“Then what about that super Lich idea?”

The Cleric shrugged.

“That was based on a rumour. We haven’t seen anything directly out of her to suggest that it’s true. My best guess is that she’s working for someone and the Undead have been instructed to follow her commands. It’s in line with how she refers to the Undead and keeps trying to convince us to ‘lease’ them.”

Falagrim wondered which one was worse: the return of those insufferable Archelians or the Undead setting up shop nearby. He took one last look around before the grey cloaks completed their ritual and he stepped into the escarpment.

Frigid winds greeted him as he stepped out into a high mountain valley. His attention instantly went to the towering cliff behind him. Nothing could be seen, but he knew that it was there. The cliff itself was the Gate of Hardar, the ‘main entrance’ to the Dwarven Principalities of Khazanar. Fashioned by the greatest artisans of its time, the portal was indistinguishable from the landscape around it and no clue of its existence lingered on the surface. Even the area where they stood was proofed against observation from sources both mystic and mundane.

“Well,” Agni shifted the weight of the baggage over her shoulders, “I’ll be off, then.”

With that, the Cleric disappeared into the stone. As the only one in Falagrim’s company that wasn't an exile, she was the sole individual who could do so. Falagrim crossed his arms and leaned. against the cliff, waiting for one of his contacts to come out. Though there was no sign or sense that they were being observed, there was also no doubt that they were.

Two hours later, a severely-dressed Dwarf came out with a small cadre of guards in adamantite plate so heavily enchanted that they seemed to pulse with dark light. The thick adamantite rings clinching the braids in their beards clinked against one another as they approached.

“Earlier than expected,” the newcomer said. “Come to drop off Aunt Agni?”

“Something like that,” Falagrim replied. “War’s winding down.”

“I can’t get a refund for that equipment, father.”

“You don’t have to tell me that, boy.”

“Then I’ll have our suppliers switch production, as usual.”

“Let your mother handle that.”

His son’s beard shifted as his everpresent frown deepened. Falagrim sent a pointed look at her Gate of Hardar.

“Right,” his son said.

They parted with a grunt and a shared nod. Unlike with most races, trust was no measure of security when it came to information. Dark Dwarves were a psionically gifted race, and a young Dwarf could easily have any fresh information or active thoughts ripped from their minds by passers-by.

Agni didn’t accompany Falagrim just because they needed a company Cleric or to represent his wife’s interests. She was also strong enough to resist any psychic incursion that their enemies could bring to bear, making her ideal for delivering information between them. It was the best way to stay competitive.

With any further actions hinging on his wife’s reply, he settled in for a long wait, leaning against the stone that refused to let him back into his home.

The crunch of ironshod boots echoed through the darkened halls below the Gate of Hardar. A figure cloaked in grey tones rushed forward, the sound of her ragged breath mixing with those of her desperate steps. Her pained cry pierced the air as a black iron quarrel sprouted from her thigh. The figure fell forward, rolling twice before settling into a moaning heap.

A column of armoured Dwarves emerged from the same passage as the fleeing woman. The one at its head stepped up and stomped a boot directly onto the quarrel. An agonised cry echoed down the surrounding tunnels.

“No!” The woman gasped desperately, “Pleas–”

Agni smiled as her flanged mace split the woman’s skull open. A swift kick sent the dead Dwarf’s body rolling into the flooded gutter nearby. The murky waters churned as the vile things that lived beneath its surface tore the corpse apart.

She sent a look around the corridor. The dozens of witnesses averted their gazes, returning to whatever they were doing. No one in their right mind would raise a hand to help a corpse or even suggest that someone had been killed. There was simply no gain in doing so, and, in doing so, they had everything to lose.

“I don’t think she learned anything.”

“That doesn’t matter, Uldun,” Agni said. “She tried, so she died.”

The fact that she did was a bad sign in itself. Certainly, heedless fools existed, but to try skimming thoughts from a member of the great clans was normally unthinkable. Agni turned and walked back through their escort, continuing her journey deep into Khazanar. She tasted the thoughts of those who dared to meet her gaze as she passed them, sensitive for any traces of antipathy or contempt.

“Have the other clans been up to anything new since the last time I came around?” She asked.

“Not that I know of,” Uldun answered. “There has been no sign of change – not in the machinations of the realm, nor the minds of the people.”

“What about the markets?”

“Well, I suppose there’s that. Everyone’s becoming more…liberal with their slaves considering the hauls that father’s been bringing in. Productivity’s gone up threefold. We’ve even had some Undead popping up in the mines.”

Agni nodded. The appearance of the Undead was a sign that no effort was being spared by the handlers to maximise the output of their slaves. It was a good thing, but all good things came to an end. With the Sorcerous Kingdom’s economic embargo in place, the pendulum would soon swing to the opposite side.

A blast of humid air buffeted them as they crossed over the first of Khazanar’s five great chasms. The ancient stone bridge that spanned it led them to Felhammer Citadel, the great hold of Clan Felhammer which loomed over the teeming slave markets in the swathe of slums lining the unfathomably deep void.

Another escort awaited them at the entrance to the hold. There, Uldun parted ways with Agni. She was led up the steps chiselled into the side of the colossal stalactite out of which the citadel was fashioned. Their ascent spiralled into ever-widening circles, taking them up two hundred metres to the citadel’s main gate. The portal of enchanted adamantite alloy swung open, absent of any fanfare or even recognition of its rare guest.

The graven figures of her ancestors cast their grim gazes down upon her as she traversed the entry hall. She turned down a side corridor and several pairs of the house guard stepped aside as she made her way closer to its sole source of light. Agni squinted as she entered an office flooded with the illumination of indigo darklamps.

“You’ve returned.”

Agni walked up a long, crimson carpet woven from the beards of hundreds of Fire Giants, genuflecting before the obsidian desk at its opposite end. A dull boom echoed around the chamber as the guards shut the doors.

“Sister,” she said, “it’s been a while.”

“You encountered a worm,” Baerwynn said.

“That we did,” Agni replied. “The question is why?”

“You have a spy in the company,” her sister said. “Several, probably.”

“There are always spies in the company,” Agni rolled her eyes. “Why do random pissants suddenly dare to skim the minds of our scions?”

“I was hoping you could shed some light on that.”

Agni sighed and stood again, walking forward to take a seat on one of the granite stools in front of the desk. She removed her helm and set it down on the corner of the desk. Across from her, the figure of her sister shimmered with the intensity of her defensive enchantments. Even protected thusly and surrounded by her house guard, assassination attempts were a regular occurrence.

“Jaldabaoth’s war with the Holy Kingdom of Roble is over,” Agni said.

“I would have thought that the Demon Emperor would take more time savouring their struggles,” her sister frowned. “So this war is over. When is the next? And where? Evasha? Slane? The pitiful remnants of the empire across the north?”

“None, I reckon. Jaldabaoth was not the victor in Roble.”

Baerwynn snorted.

“Do you mean to say that those Humans somehow won against an archfiend and his fiendish legions plus the tribes of the Abelion Hills? The world can be a strange place, sister, but there are limits.”

“There was an interloper in the conflict. A country that refers to itself as the ‘Sorcerous Kingdom’.”

Her sister fell silent, crossing her arms with an especially grim expression. It wasn’t hard to imagine why. Jaldabaoth’s invasion barely required any effort on the archfiend’s part. Any interlopers that appeared would have to be as strong as he was.

“They’re in the process of solidifying their hold on the Abelion Hills,” Agni continued. “If their representative is to be believed, they entered the conflict on the side of Roble.”

“What’s the point of that?” Baerwynn asked, “Any power that could defeat Jaldabaoth would make toys out of Roble’s Humans. The same can be said for the tribes of the Abelion Hills. ‘Solidifying their hold’ on the region is absolutely unnecessary. Their time would be better spent figuring out how to deal with that spoiled brat in Evasha or Slane’s ‘divine legacy’.”

Baerwynn was, of course, correct. The might that could be brought to bear by the powers in the south made those in the north seem laughably harmless by comparison. Any effort expended in the north could only be considered playing around.

“I don’t know what the ultimate purpose of what they’re doing is,” Agni said. “I can only report what we’ve seen and what they claim to be up to.”

“And what might that be?”

“Imposing a new order. They’ve also asked us to trade with them, but they’ve outlawed slavery. We can’t even transport slaves through their territory as they would consider them contraband.”

“What did Falagrim say?”

“He tried to press our case, but the representative wouldn’t budge. We will no longer be able to import slaves from the realms above…at least not through the Gate of Hadar. They care not for our ways, yet they invite us to partake of their own.”

It was one thing to invite others to participate in their customs, but it was another to trample on the customs of those that they invited in the process. At best, it might be considered a sort of arrogance founded in ignorance; at worst, it was an insult. Either way, few races that were genuinely interested in diplomacy or trade would do such a thing.

“What is the predominant race in this ‘Sorcerous Kingdom’?” Baerwynn asked.

“We’re not sure about that,” Agni answered. “The representative that we interacted with was a Human girl. She came prepared with everything needed to deal with Dark Dwarves, so there are still many mysteries about this new power.”

“So was this impression due to it being conveyed by a Human?”

“That’s difficult to tell. She’s young, but her ability is undeniable. She manhandled our Merchants and Falagrim couldn’t get through to her. There’s a strong possibility that she’s also a magic caster.”

“…an Imperial Arcanist?”

“We considered that,” Agni said. “Ultimately, we don’t have enough information. Another possibility I’m looking into is that she is in the service of a powerful Undead caster – an evolved Lich of some sort. The military forces of the Sorcerous Kingdom appear to consist entirely of the Undead and the representative was attempting to promote the use of Undead labour to us.”

“No wonder they outlawed slavery.”

“It’s a reasonable assumption. One less source of competition.”

Baerwynn uncrossed her arms and reached for a sheet of parchment.

“What are we going to do?” Agni asked.

“We’re in no position to challenge this ‘Sorcerous Kingdom’,” Baerwynn said. “But losing the surface trade puts the clan in a difficult position.”

“Have we made any gains using Jaldabaoth’s business?”

“I expected it to go on for much longer…as did the other clans.”

“You mean to say they’ve been dancing around our overtures,” Agni said, “and you’ve been humouring them thinking that we had more time.”

In truth, it was to be expected. A menace of Jaldabaoth’s scale would be expected to last for many years, if not decades. Considering the way that he seemed to operate, the Dragon Lords would not directly act against him, so everyone felt that they would have a long, lucrative relationship with the Demon Emperor.

If only–

“If only our dear prince hadn’t spurned your overtures?” Baerwynn’s lip turned up in a smirk.

“I still don’t think I’m wrong,” Agni muttered. “With our situation as it is, we need a backup plan.”

“You should know the dangers by now,” her sister told her. “The other clans are not as blind as you once believed them to be.”

“What could they even do? None would leave Khazanar to interfere with us and none would risk themselves attacking the citadel. They would weaken themselves to the extent that they would be set upon by the others.”

“You’re not wrong,” Baerwynn replied. “But the appearance of this Sorcerous Kingdom changes things. Nothing has broken our status quo before. Our people have suddenly found themselves on the precipice of chaos.”

The matron of Clan Felhammer folded the parchment and slid it across the desk. Agni’s eyes narrowed as she read over her instructions.

“Falagrim’s going to be spitting acid over this,” she said.

Baerwynn snorted.

“He’ll live. On the bright side, you finally get to try what you’ve always wanted.”

Agni slid off of her seat, stuffing her sister’s missive in a pocket under her armour. Baerwynn returned her attention to her work.

“And what will you do here, sister?” Agni asked.

“The other clans have the initiative here,” Baerwynn answered. “All we can do is keep an ear open to any whispers and prepare our defences for what may come.”

Back outside the citadel, Agni found a different set of guards waiting for her. Of course, her sister’s instructions meant that she couldn’t conduct any research on the Sorcerous Kingdom lest her activities give away more than they intended.

The armoured escort led her back down to the main level where yet another set of guards awaited alongside carts loaded with cages. Each contained a Dark Dwarf, garbed in shoddy rags; their faces tattooed with marks of exile. Passers-by turned their gazes away from the disgraced prisoners, though many took the time to hurl stones and insults in their direction before doing that.

“Let’s move,” Agni said. “I don’t want to waste any more mana on healing than necessary.”

The carts rumbled forward, forming a long line as they crossed the chasm on their way to the Gate of Hardar. They stopped just inside the gate, where the cages were emptied and the prisoners shoved through the stone. Agni squinted in annoyance as she stepped out into the early morning light, nearly tripping over an exile who had lost his footing in the brightness.

“I didn’t expect you until tonight,” Falagrim’s voice came out from the shadows along the cliff face. “What the hell is all of this?”

“Let’s get out of this blasted daylight first,” Agni growled.

She sighed in relief as the grey robes transported them through the stone and back into the shadows of their camp in the Abelion Hills. The prisoners gaped up with uncertain expressions at the unfamiliar surroundings. Several Deepwardens came forward to beat them into line.

“Hold,” Agni said as they raised their whips. “They’re ours.”

The ‘prisoners’ lined themselves up before Falagrim, lowering themselves to a knee before their prince. Each one was an agent of Clan Felhammer assigned to support the company in their new task. Falagrim looked down at the agents, his hands on his hips.

“Can someone tell me what’s going on now?”

In response, Agni produced Baerwynn’s missive, holding it out toward Falagrim. The Dwarf Lord’s expression grew dark as his eyes went back and forth over the page.

“You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me.”

“Our patrols are still unable to locate the Dark Dwarven camp,” the army liaison said.

“But didn’t you say you know the general location where they disappeared?” Florine asked.

“That is correct,” the Elder Lich answered. “We suspect that magic or some special ability is being employed to prevent us from discovering the camp’s location.”

“Aren’t the Undead supposed to be immune to that sort of magic?”

“The Undead are immune to mind-affecting spells and abilities, but not all spells and abilities that foil detection and perception fall into that category. This includes many illusion spells, camouflage, and effects that influence navigation and terrain.”

Even when the infantry patrols walked into the locations where the Dark Dwarves seemed to vanish, they only found themselves in an empty span of forest. The idea that spells and abilities could be so effective that they could do that was vexing, to say the least. Magic and special abilities were common elements in popular tales, but they were rarely so mysterious and the protagonists always had some trick to beat them.

“Is there any way we can overcome this?” Florine asked.

“Not within the bounds of your stated parameters,” the Elder Lich answered.

Since things didn’t seem like they were going too well with the Dark Dwarves, Florine didn’t want to make things worse by appearing too intrusive. That limited her options to having patrol routes take them through areas where the Dark Dwarves were suspected to reside. Unfortunately, whatever they were doing was above any chance for casual discovery.

“How strong are these Dark Dwarves, exactly?”

Isoroku’s assessment of the Falagrim’s party as members of a Type A Human civilisation suggested that they shouldn’t have been much different than a group from Re-Estize or Baharuth. How easily they were eluding detection with an entire Merchant company, however, suggested otherwise.

“Not even the Zern know where the Dark Dwarves reside,” Boobeebee said. “They seem to show up at will wherever they wish and vanish just as easily.”

“Only two were strong,” Liolio piped up. “The Dwarf Lord and his female.”

“Hmm…wait,” Florine frowned. “How can you recognise Falagrim as a Dwarf Lord but not me as a Human Lord?”

“A Lord is a Lord,” the Miq replied matter-of-factly.

Florine held in a sigh, turning her attention back to the first of the new Merchant stands she was setting up. It wasn’t very complicated, consisting of a small striped tent with a single long table in front of it. She had ordered a few things delivered from E-Rantel since she decided to create a market in the Dale of Defiance, but working with what she had in the meanwhile helped her to think about what else needed to be done.

It didn’t need to be very complicated, really. All she wanted was for the different tribes to peaceably interact and develop an appreciation for what they had to offer to one another.

…except that was far more complicated than it seemed. She had to keep in mind all of the different races and their potential interactions, and she had no idea what made things work before. Additionally, there were any number of harmful things that might be promoted and the new citizens weren’t well-versed in the Sorcerous Kingdom’s laws.

For the time being, Florine asked the Undead security forces to be considerate of the growing pains that were sure to accompany their work, but she wasn’t sure whether they understood what she was asking. She had a feeling that her life for the next few months would be filled with running around putting out fires as she mediated all of the differences and misunderstandings that cropped up.

I need help…

She couldn’t train that help until she could codify how that help needed to operate, however. All she could do for now was work everything out as she went.

“Lady Gagnier,” the army liaison said. “The Dark Dwarves have reemerged. They are requesting an audience.”

“R-really?”

“It is highly doubtful that the sergeant has misinterpreted their intent.”

“I didn’t mean to cast doubt on the report,” Florine said. “I was just surprised, that’s all. Where are they?”

“At the checkpoint in the northern quadrant of the second security perimeter.”

Florine set her things aside, quickly checking over her appearance before mounting her Soul Eater and riding to the northern checkpoint. There, she found Falagrim with a much larger following than before. The Dwarf Lord stepped forward as she dismounted, his thumbs hooked into his belt.

“We’ll try things your way,” he said. “Where do you want us to set up?”