The Beginnings Omnibus: Beginnings 1, 2, 3 & Legend of Ashenclaw novella (Realm of Ashenclaw Beginnings Saga) (84 page)

“I am
fine
,” Amtusk responded after a long bout of silence.

“If ye be feelin’ fine, then I be a forest elf!” Xorgram whispered a bit louder this time. “I be runnin’ things here, Amtusk, right?! Ye be knowin’ I bear ye no ill will and yet ye think that I be doin’ this to ye personally! I be thinkin’ ye need ta cool yerself off and relax fer a day or three. And don’t be arguin’ me on this one.”

Amtusk’s face regained its composure and he straightened right up.

“And I may be sendin‘ ye and a few others to Semmeroth in the comin’ days to catch up with Grogo if I feel a need ta follow up on ‘im. But, ye won’t be needin’ to get yerself there fer a few weeks, even if I do.”

“Your wish is my deed,” said the half-orc, saluting Xorgram. “I forgot who I was speaking with, my lord.”

“I don’t need any ‘my lords’—especially from you and ye’ know it. I just want yer respect, yer axe and yer word, just like I asked ye when ye joined us,” Xorgram added with a nod, aware that the half-orc had come to his senses. He leaned in to the half-orc once more. “Check in on the one named Rogoth and don’t ye underestimate him. When ye got somethin’ to report, see to it I be getting’ the news,” ordered the dwarf as he brushed the hair out of his eyes. Amtusk again nodded in compliance and made his way out of the room.

The rest of the coven also made to prepare for the tasks except Skuros and Kroskus, who stared at Xorgram and remained inside the room awaiting a personal dismissal from their leader.

The taur often played the role of bodyguard to Xorgram, even though no one would ever think to attack their leader here. Xorgram Eboneye returned his attention once more to Fuddle and Kilkutt and allowed the taur to remain, as he knew it gave the pair added sense of purpose. But just as he joined his two closest friends and allies at the table, sounds of a commotion came outside in the passage.

Xorgram stepped out of the meeting chamber and into the passage, followed by the two taur. There they bore witness to Synewulf as he lay on his backside with Amtusk standing over him, a balled fist quivered angrily at his side. A few of the coven members made to getin between the two as Xorgram arrived.

“What manner of madness be this?!” asked Xorgram, his hands on his hips as Skuros and Kroskus were ready to defend their leader at a moment’s notice. Skuros held his spiked ball and chain while Kroskus’s pair of wicked battle-axes were in his hands.

Synewulf stood and wiped blood from his lip, and then straightened his leather jerkin. “The
half-orc
is insane!” cried Synewulf, drawing a narrow-eyed look from Krewel, another half-orc who clearly felt the words resonated with the tone of racism and Xorgram was aware of his previous claims to the point. “He hit me when I wasn’t lookin’!”

“I be doubtin’ that, Synewulf,” Xorgram stated boldly. “It don’t matter who did what to who—clean yerselves up an’ don’t let me be seein’ this again or ye’ll both be sent to me dungeons to think on!”

With that, Xorgram spun on his heel and headed back into the chamber where he sat once more beside Kilkutt and Fuddle, who had remained oblivious to the confrontation outside. The three of them pored over their designs for new shadowsteel armors.

Kroskus and Skuros replaced their weapons and followed Xorgram back into the chamber where he called them to him.

“You two’ll be aidin’ Fuddle here in the makin’ of the elevators that he be designin’ on each level,” Xorgram instructed. “Ye both be doin’ all the hard labor.” The taur looked from Xorgram to the tiny gnome, and then nodded to them both in silent affirmation.

“Glad to have you two aboard,” Fuddle mentioned as he tapped the parchments laid out on the table before glancing up at the two half-man, half-bull creatures.

Xorgram made his way out into the passageway again and distinctly overheard Synewulf muttering to himself and dabbing an ointment on his swollen lip, a hateful look in his eyes. Amtusk, still returning the stare, tossed a dagger at the feet of Synewulf.

“Here’s your dagger back.” With that, Amtusk and the rest of the coven dispersed, leaving behind a fuming Synewulf.

“Next time, you die,” he snarled under his breath.

Xorgram was troubled at overhearing that and gave it some careful consideration as he made his way back to his quarters.

Princess Amara sat alone in her cell. She’d been having disturbing dreams of late, inundating her wits both day and night. She moved to light one of the many candles she’d been given with one that whose wax had dwindled to liquid as shadows danced along the walls of her cell.

She was thankful to be clean again as she ran a hand through her golden hair and removed a small mirror from her rucksack. Xorgram at least allowed her to keep her personal items, thankfully. As she gazed in to the mirror, she considered the dwarf who held her captive. He was a curious one. And not truly filled with malevolence, but instead was self-serving.

Amara stared at her reflection and caught the reflection of her father’s resemblance in her deep brown eyes. Her thoughts shifted to her mother and she hoped that she would see her again one day soon.

Emotions flooded her senses and she was quickly overcome with grief at the absence of her mother. Amara tried to fight back tears, but could not. She wept for so long that exhaustion eventually claimed her. She awoke some time later to the sound of footsteps approaching.

The candle still burned brightly and therefore she had not been asleep for long. Torchlight accompanied the footsteps and, as Amara rubbed the sleep from her eyes, she discerned the figure of a female shape in the passage.

“This is what I am reduced to,” the woman muttered to herself as she placed a bowl of food down in front of the cell and stared at Amara with judging eyes.

“Do you detest me so?” Amara asked her.                                 

“I hate
you
and everyone
like
you,” she responded curtly with a hand on her hip. Amara knew her. Her name was Cassia. She had visited her previously and always carried a similar spite in her tone.

“You nobles are handed everything from the moment you exit your mother’s womb…treated as gods because of
who
birthed you. You are privileged in that you own a royal surname is all,” she continued. “If you weren’t so important to Xorgram, I’d have sliced up your pretty face by now.”

Amara simply shook her head. “So, then there is nothing that I could say to convince you of
who
I am and not
what
I am?”

Cassia frowned at her question.

“I know who you are, Princess Amara of Norgeld, daughter of Lynessa and Alabaster Pridemoon,” Cassia responded, contemptuously addressing her with her full title. “You are an advantaged girl with proper manners and more gold than you will ever want or need.”

“That is not
who
I am—that is what you
think
I am,” Amara refuted.

Cassia moved closer to the cell door and stood staring at Amara through the bars. “Who exactly are you then, if not the Princess of Norgeld?”

“I am a lady—born of royal blood, yes, but a lady first and foremost,” Amara responded. “I am a woman who does not enjoy being taken against her will and thrown into a cell, left here to rot. I am a woman who, despite being held captive, wants very much to taste freedom once more. And, a woman who has visions…visions that will not end, and which I do not understand. Visions that, oft times, I do not wish to see.”

“I wish I cared,” Cassia said as she turned her back and walked away.

“You will care when your whole operation comes crumbling down around you!” Amara called after her. Cassia kept on walking. Amara wondered if her words had any meaning to the outwardly callous woman. She lit another candle with the one that was already burning and closed her eyes again, trying desperately to find sleep.

Cassia heard Amara’s warning, but kept walking. Despite her best efforts, the subject of the woman’s words troubled her.

She took a deep breath to steady her concerns.

Is this woman, princess or no, an oracle?
Cassia wondered as she climbed the ladder. Her thoughts entertained that very subject until she arrived at Xorgram’s door.

She knocked, waited a moment, tested the handle, and then entered. He had left it open for her as they had planned. As she disrobed, she did her best not to approach the subject of the princess and her omens. That goal was never reached, however, and she and Xorgram discussed in earnest the self-professed clairvoyancy of the woman they held locked away in the cells many levels below.

The rain finally slowed to a sprinkling and finally ceased altogether, though it did not do much to rid Rose of her melancholy. The group gathered their belongings and made their way to the caravan, which was located beneath a thick cropping of trees at the crest of the hill. The strange construct still sat emotionless atop the driver’s seat, glistening from the moisture that covered its body, but never acknowledging it. They traipsed through the soaked soil and climbed inside.

The construct maneuvered the caravan forward at Garius’s command, trudging through the mud and wet grass all the way to the northwestern tip of the Lake of Souls. There they would begin anew their search for the artifact.

As they came to rest on the bank of the Lake of Souls, Garius exited the caravan, followed by Rose, Saeunn and Orngoth, and eventually, Elec. The elf had been inside his unique workshop for the remainder of the day and through the night, for the rain continued until the dawn encroached.

Rose noted that Elec’s bandolier was complete with new elixirs and liquids. She looked more closely at the elf, who appeared very aloof of late. Again, she made a mental note of it, but kept it to herself.

“Up there is a cavern entrance,” Garius called out, directing their gaze up the mountain to a natural trail could be seen. It was wide enough for one person to make their way along it at a time and was approximately a dozen or fewer paces from where a waterfall emptied into the Lake of Souls. It was one of many cascades that emerged from the Blackstone range.

“Seems as good a place as any. It might be just the spot for a den of cutthroats to lie in wait,” Saeunn agreed. Orngoth merely grunted and Rose nodded to indicate for them to move on. Elec also nodded his consent.

The group watched as the sun moved notably in the sky overhead as they continued along, picking their way carefully up the trail toward the cave opening.
Below them, the morning mist began to appear upon the surface of the lake and spilled into Heartwood Valley once again, covering the surface of the ground as it did each and every day.

Rose wasn’t sure why, but she felt like they were missing something. She watched the others tread carefully, especially the Inquisitor in his hulking armor and caught him staring back at her before shifting his gaze upon the trail.

Does he suddenly have eyes for me
? she wondered with a smirk and an unexpected flutter in her belly that came from nowhere as she continued her ascent. As she climbed after them, she entertained that very subject.

Her reveries were not altogether unpleasant.

Rose could have sworn she’d seen some movement within the cave. She made no move, as she was the first to arrive at the entrance. It wasn’t a wide threshold, but it certainly could fit someone the size of the half-ogre inside. She held up a hand, indicating for the others to halt their approach, and then signaled for Elec to advance.

The elf stepped on light footing, silent as a shadow, toward her position. He peered into the opening once he arrived where she sat in a crouched position.

“Something’s inside,” she began to explain, “I am sure there was movement.” She could see extremely well in the dark, as she had grown accustomed to shifting her vision into and out of the shadow realm. She’d gotten quite good at it these past few years, but wanted a second set of eyes to confirm her suspicions.

Elec peered into the cave. She observed carefully as his eyes quickly shifted, the pupils widening.

He continued to scan the darkness in silence until turning to her, shaking his head. “I see nothing,” he admitted to her in a hushed whisper. He surveyed the ground before them inside the threshold a few paces. “Tracks,” he observed, bending low, “unmolested by the rain. Perhaps you and I should take the lead?” Rose nodded and withdrew her magical daggers,
Avorna
and
Zaedra
, whose enchantments hasted her attacks as swiftly as she could think.

Saeunn arrived next, greatsword drawn and ready. Garius and Orngoth reached the cave mouth last and the Inquisitor mouthed a familiar litany to The Shimmering One, asking for a blessing of the sun’s light to be harnessed and placed upon him.

“We will approach this situation as we did in the temple,” Garius instructed as he leaned into Orngoth and tapped him on the shoulder to gain his attention. “You can see in the dark?” Orngoth nodded as he straightened the ram horned helm atop his head.

The five of them crossed the threshold into the cavern while Rose and Elec lead them on.

Rose disappeared completely within the shadows and Elec was already far ahead. He rubbed his head where stubble was beginning to form, wiped the sweat from it and donned his helmet. The helm slid down over his face, restricting his peripheral vision, as was always the case, but provided exceptional protection—protection that had saved his life on numerous occasions.

His crimson breastplate glimmered with a dull light and illuminated the entrance to the cave just enough to indicate the details of the rocky texture. The walls were of a very dark hue, appearing so murky in their hue, that it was clear as to where the mountain range got its name—Blackstone.

Saeunn, Orngoth and Garius delayed their advance to allow their guides proper time to inspect the trail ahead before moving off after them

Rose strode from shadow to shadow, pausing to wait for Elec to catch up. As he arrived, he looked at her and nodded for her to move again. As she did so, she watched Elec drain a flask before replacing the stopper and then sliding the empty flask back into the strap on his bandolier. She stared at him and evidently had a look of consternation upon her face, for the elf reacted as such.

“What is it?” he asked, casting a guarded look her way.

“I said nothing. But since you asked, the elixir—”

“Is a preventive healing elixir,” he interjected, “meant to clot the blood quickly if something were to penetrate my skin.”

Rose looked away, knowing that her expression betrayed her inner distaste for the elf’s use—or
misuse
—of his tinctures. But, it was his business. At least until it caused any of the others any harm. She shrugged and sighed, hoping it would not come to that, before shifting the conversation.

“The tunnels seem to dip at a slight angle. And it’s getting sticky in here, too,” she said running a hand along her forehead. She removed a glove and felt the sweat starting to saturate her hair. “And warm.”

“It is damp,” Elec concurred, rubbing his fingers together to test her theory. The floors of the tunnel were dark and covered in a light mist that had begun to appear, too. “It does seem to be—”

Elec let out a yelp suddenly and disappeared before Rose’s eyes. She peered down and saw that the elf had slipped and fallen into an opening in the cavern floor, undetected through the mist. He was hanging by his fingertips from the edge of the gap in the tunnel floor.

“You all right? How far down?” Rose asked him as he hung there in silence.

“I am not sure how far down this goes, only that I cannot see the bottom,” he said peering down. “Luckily, none of my belonging s fell.” He looked up at her expectantly and she grinned at him.

The elf had magic that could help him. He could have reached for his ancient elven blade,
Daegnar Giruth
he called it, that could float in mid-air. She had seen him do it before. But he was hesitant to release even one of his hands from the surface.

“What?” she asked.

“Would you mind helping me up!?”

“Oh, you need a hand?” Rose asked the elf with a widening grin. He stared up at her, eyes wide, but she could not tell if he was scared, shocked, agitated or something else entirely. “You guys are no fun.”

Rose reached out and grasped his forearm, braced herself and helped him up. He was visibly relieved and wiped a noticeable bead of sweat from his chin, intermixed with blood. He must have smacked it on the way down and it was already closing over in front of her eyes. He withdrew another potion, popped the cork and downed a good portion of it.

“After you,” he said, gesturing for her to take the lead.

He was a unique individual, she thought, wondering what his life must have been like before accepting the covenant of the Faceless Knights that led them all here in the first place. He seemed to have very little experience when it came to social interaction. It wasn’t that he was rude; rather that he simply did not understand sarcasm, humor or pretense. Or, she supposed suddenly, that he did not acknowledge them.

In some ways ,it was like dealing with a young adult by human standards, even though the elf was at least twice Rose’s age.

She was about to comment to him, inquiring about his age and experiences, when she appreciated that this was neither the time nor the place. Rose saw the glint of light coming from Garius’s form behind them and decided to start moving forward again.

“Is everyone all right?” Garius whispered to the two of them.

Rose looked back and nodded an affirmation, indicating for them to stop. “Watch your step, Inquisitor. We don’t want to lose you just yet,” Rose commented with a grin and wink, gesturing to the break in the stone floor before sneaking away from the others.