The Stone Hills. Winter...
Helbe the elven thief looks over at the dwarven warriors Thane Kraelin, and Karne aka The Axe Thrower. And finds both of them looking at him with questioning looks upon their bearded faces.
The young even noble from the principality of Laerel in the Southlands, just shrugs his shoulders in response. Then he turns and looks away to the southeast.
It's a clear, though windy day, which is no surprise in the Stone Hills. And they're next to a mountain lake, about nine thousand feet up on the large, flat peak of a mountain, in an area between the Mard clanhold, and the Omban clanhold.
It's one of the taller peaks towards the south of the Stone Hills. It stands sentry over the smaller foothills in this area of the rocky mountain range.
The elven masterthief is with a war party of about fifty dwarven warriors, mostly from clan Kraelin, and a handful of scouts from clan Mard.
Prince Helbenthril Raendril scuffs at the snow covered ground, then senses as he looks across the clear blue waters of the lake they're next too. The elven master assassin sees nothing of interest. Certainly nothing that they're interested in seeing.
The elven princeling from the Southlands slightly turns as both Thane Kraelin and Karne the Axe Thrower come over and stand beside him.
"Nothing yet" says Helbe the elven thief in response to Thane Kraelin asking him "Anything your highness?". It's not the first time the nephew of the clan chieftain Baedin Kraelin has asked him that this morning since they broke camp, which was down beside the lake forty yards from where they're now standing.
"Mayhap he's in trouble like?" quietly says the younger of the two dwarven warriors, the older of the two beside him, nods his head in agreement with the nephew of his clan chieftain.
"I rather doubt it" dryly says the grandson of the ruling prince of Laerel, who then silently adds, if he is, then we're basically fucked. As if he was in trouble, then the lot of them would have no chance in dealing with whatever it is that's caused him trouble.
Thinking about it, the young elven noble asks the two dwarves "Any creatures here in the Stone Hills i should know about?" the Southlander adds "Well apart from the obvious".
"There be some trolls about, them that don't head down to the port cities like Falnic to work in the shipyards" says Thane Kraelin, who then adds "But you already know that" he continues with "There be some giants scattered throughout the mountains, but ye hardly see them".
"Aye good thing that you don't" says Karne the Axe Thrower, who then adds "Mean buggers they be for sure" the older dwarven warrior then mutters "Bloody near impossible to kill too".
"Then there's talk of a dragon" says the nephew of clan Kraelin's chief, who continues with "But there's always talk of one". Beside him Axe Thrower nods his head, and says "Been hearing about it all my life, canny not say i ever seen it" he continues with "My da said he saw it, but my da liked to drink, and talk a lot of shit, so who knows if he saw it or not".
"Probably not" dryly murmurs Thane Kraelin, who then tells the elven princeling from south of the equator "It apparently flies between here in the Stone Hills, and in our ancestral mountains, spending time in both ranges".
"Maladimbáh?" says Helbe the elven thief who knows the dwarves of the Stone Hills are originally from the elven principality of Maladimbáh. They were driven out of there after a defeat in a war against the elves in the principality.
"Aye highness" says Thane Kraelin who continues with "It crosses the plains of the nomads, and spends time either here or in Maladimbáh" as he looks across the mountain lake, he adds "Well that's what the legends say about it".
"Black dragon?" asks the elven magic user, who continues with "A big bugger of a thing too?". The two dwarves from clan Kraelin share a look, then Thane Kraelin says "Aye that's what the old tales and legends say". "And that's what my old da said it looked like" adds Karne the Axe Thrower who continues with "Big bloody brute, dark as night, even when he saw it on a clear summer's day".
"Your legends are true" says the elven princeling, who slightly nods his hooded head at Axe Thrower and adds "And so was your father" the elven masterthief continues with "That dragon was in Maladimbáh". Helbenthril Raendril looks at the two of them, and tells them "You don't have to worry about it" he then adds "It was killed just this past summer".
"How?" asks Axe Thrower at the same time as his clan chief's nephew asks "You certain?" as they look at the elven master archer in surprise.
"Yes I'm certain" says the grandson of Prince Raendril as he answers Thane Kraelin's question, then he answers Karne's with "You wouldn't believe me if i told you" in a dry tone of voice.
Knowing it would be a difficult explaining to the two of them, that the dragon in question was killed by lord Farque and an army of undead elves and dwarves. Dwarven warriors who most likely could be their ancestors.
The young elven noble dryly says to them "It tried eating something that disagreed with it". Which is true enough, as the undead warlord was in the mouth of the dragon when he killed it.
Helbe the elven thief then says "You know that sword the mage Reinholt carries?" he continues with "Not that double bladed staff looking one he has strapped to his back, but the other one he wears on his hip, the one with the black blade?".
"Aye" says Thane Kraelin who recalls seeing the weapon in question before Mira Reinholt left and headed west to the coast, and the clanhold of the Galve clan "What about it?" asks the nephew of Baedin Kraelin.
"That was blackened by that dragon" says the elven princeling who continues with "Now that blade is basically indestructible". Both dwarves eyebrows lift up in surprise at that, then the two of them slowly nod.
The elven magic user gestures away to the southeast, the way, not just they're looking, but most of the war party are looking too. "And he's definitely not in trouble" says prince Helbenthril Raendril, who then silently adds, though where the hell he is, is another thing entirely different.
They continue to wait throughout the morning, with more than a few of the dwarven warriors in the war party looking nervously to the southeast, and at the elven princeling from south of the equator.
The elven masterthief who is just thinking about heading away down the mountain, and going to the southeast. Even though he's been told to specifically stay with the war party.
Lifts an eyebrow when Narladene the ground pixie suddenly shows up, and stands upon his right shoulder. The young elven noble wanders down to the lake, quietly murmuring in the elven language "What is it?".
"He's coming back" answers Narladene the ground pixie in a whisper, the grandson of the ruling prince of Laerel looks away to the southeast and slightly frowns, he looks quickly around in all directions, and murmurs "Where?".
The tiny winged creature doesn't reply, she just grins as his royal highness, prince Helbenthril Raendril glances sideways at her.
A few moments later and a wyvern shoots up over the eastern lip of the lake, and circles above the top of the mountain. It's followed by a second, a third, and finally a fourth. There's no one on the backs of the following wyverns, which are tame as they all have the long saddles that those from Belinswae are equipped with.
But there is a figure in the saddle of the lead wyvern. It's a large, familiar figure in a full suit of dark, heavy plate armour.
The elven magic user grins as he watches lord Farque on the back of the wyvern, that's dropping down to the side of the lake that he and the dwarven warriors are waiting by. The dwarven warriors who are all yelling and cheering at the appearance of the undead warlord and the wyverns.
The wyvern the deathlord of Farque is on lands, and he hops off it, calling out something in a language not known by any of the war party, to the circling wyverns above. Who come down and land near the one he was on.
"Difficult?" asks Helbe the elven thief after he's made his way over to the lord and ruler of the lands Farque "Not really" says lord Farque, who continues with "They don't mind flying in this strong of a wind" he gestures at the wyverns as he says that, then he adds "But the guards who fly them aren't particularly fond of going up in the high winds, so it was pretty fucking easy to take them".
As one of the raucous wyverns shoves another into the freezing water of the lake, and they end up in a bit of scrap, clawing and jawing at one another, until lord Farque yells something at them in the dragon language. Which shuts down their violent play immediately.
The dwarven warriors Thane Kraelin and Karne the Axe Thrower join the two Southlanders.
"How well are you flying wyverns?" asks the heavily armoured deathlord who has switched to the common language for the benefit of the two clan Kraelin dwarves "Not particularly good" says the elven princeling from Laerel in the same language, who then adds "Only done it couple of times, and then i never felt i ever really had any control over them".
"They're wyverns, even tame one's like these aren't exactly responsive to their riders, even those who train them" says the undead being who is also known as Draugadrottin by the people of his lands, the deathlord of Farque continues with "Don't worry, this lot will do exactly what i tell them to".
That's because you can command them in dragon, Helbe the elven thief dryly thinks to himself, the young elven noble has never cared that much for wyverns. They're raucous, fractious, and troublesome. Always squabbling amongst themselves. And the fact they're slower, smaller, and less agile than a griffon, not to mention no where near as good as a griffon in combat. The griffon being the elven nobility's flying stead.
"I guess I'm flying one, and you are too" says the young elven noble to the heavily armoured deathlord, who nods his full helmed head in response to that "So who's flying the other two?" asks the elven masterthief who refrains from grinning as he already knows the answer, as he and the undead warlord discussed it before Draugadrottin went off to get the wyverns.
"You two are" says lord Farque as he looks at the two dwarves from clan Kraelin, both of whose jaws drop open in surprise. Then Thane Kraelin gulps, while Karne aka the Axe Thrower looks a little pale, and not because of the cold wind that's blowing across the top of the mountain.
"You'll be fine" says deathlord of Farque who then adds "They'll probably try and shake you off after they lift off, but that's what the straps on the saddles are for". Axe Thrower looks a little green now, as if he's going to faint. While Thane Kraelin is breathing noticeable heavier, through his mouth, through clenched teeth.
Turning to the waiting war party, lord Farque calls out in dwarven"We're leaving" as he gestures at the four wyverns, then he adds "Pack your stuff, and let's get going".
They get onto the wyverns, some of the warriors a bit more reluctant to get up into the saddles than others. And only do so when their fellow dwarven warriors jeer at them and belittle them in unflattering terms.
Usually eight to ten justifier's guards along with the lead rider, ride upon the backs of the large winged creatures. So the entire war party of nearly fifty dwarves can easily be flown by the four wyverns lord Farque has stolen from a justifier's army.
With the undead warlord lead rider on one wyvern, and prince Helbenthril Raendril on another. While Thane Kraelin is the third, and a sick looking Karne is the fourth lead rider. The wyverns lift off from beside the lake on top of the mountain.
The wyvern the nephew of the Kraelin clan chief is on immediately spins in attempt to throw off the dwarves on it's back. The warriors all scream and yell, but remain in the saddle, thanks to the straps holding them in, and them all clinging onto one another. That particular wyvern settles down after the lord and ruler of the lands Farque yells something at it in the dragon language.
Helbe the elven thief shakes his hooded head at the slightly jerky flight of the wyvern he's on. Even when he pulls back on the reins to bring it's head up. The flight of the dark green wyvern he's on is no where near as smooth as flying on the back of a griffon.
Hell, by the forest gods, these are tame one's too! the elven princeling thinks to himself, who can't imagine what it would be like to fly on a wild wyvern, which are found in southern Belinswae, the Nomads Plains, and just east of the dry, arid plains where the nomad tribes live.
The elven magic user looks over to his left when Narladene the ground pixie points that way. He sees the wyvern lord Farque is on, come alongside the one he's lead rider on.
The undead warlord gestures away to the east and north, where in the distance a mountain stands by itself, Išorkam Uñd the dwarves call it.
As hears one of the warriors behind him throw up, Helbenthril Raendril nods his head in understanding to the heavily armoured deathlord. They're heading to the Omban clanhold, where Tamric Drubine and Lisell Maera are with a war party, who are helping the Omban clan who are under attack from a large justifier's army . . . . . .
No comments:
Post a Comment