The Halfblood King: Book 1 of the Chronicles of Aertu (21 page)

“We will chose the first,” Zormat answered, “but bear in mind, when my father comes back into his dominion, he will have no mercy for those who betrayed him.”

“We’ll just have to take our chances then,” the High Admiral replied.  “Oh, by the way, there’s a few thousand bloodstone pebbles scattered across your decks.  That may take you a while to clear out of all the nooks and crannies of your boat,” he finished with a chuckle.  The web of blue opened behind them, serving to corral the group back to the gangplank.

“Clean up this mess!” Zormat shouted, as they boarded the ship.  The remnants of his first mate had already begun to dry onto the surfaces of the bridge.  If they didn’t clean it soon, they would live with it for a long time.  The two who were caught in the blast had stripped off their soiled tunics, throwing them overboard in disgust after using the cleaner backsides to wipe their faces.  One of them had added vomit to the gore on the bridge, so the stench there was horrid.

Kor, Haldor and the figure in blue stood and watched the elvish crew prepare to disembark.  With thirty wizards of the guild at their backs, along with a hundred bowmen and men at arms of the city watch, they had little to fear from retaliation.  The leader of the elves paced furiously up and down the deck, shouting orders at his crew in an unfamiliar language.  “Do either of you recognize the tongue they speak?” Kor asked the other two.

“Sounds like a dialect of goblin to me,” the blue robed figure replied. “I recognize most of the words and the structure seems to match as well.”

“What do you make of that, Blue, elves speaking goblin and using red magic?  I’ve never heard of such a thing.  Have you, Haldor?”

“No Sir,” the Grand Marshal replied, “and what about him claiming to be the son of the Nameless One?”

“Demigods are not unheard of,” replied the Grand Wizard of the Blue.  Members of the Wizard’s Guild never reveal their true names to anyone, so the Grand Wizards are known to those outside, simply as Red and Blue.  “The gods meddled in the affairs of mortals during their stay with us.  There is some indication that a certain elvish wizard of great renown was a demigod.  He disappeared after the Great War, but certain events in the last four millennia have had his taint upon them.”

“You speak of Goromir?” Kor asked, in surprise.  “Do you think he is still alive?  That would make him ten thousand years old.”

“Only a little over nine thousand, actually, Your Excellency and yes, we think he may still be about.  If his mother was truly a goddess, as we suspect, he may not have a maximum lifespan and may linger on Aertu until the end of time.  We believe they can be killed though, unlike the gods themselves.  There was a Sunjibi king, many ages ago, who was the only known wizard among the westmen and arose before the arrival of elves to our continent.  He was killed in battle against the Wabani. It was said that his body refused to rot and the carrion birds would not touch it upon the funerary rack.  They finally entombed him, for lack of a better course of action.”

“So this elf may be who he says he is?  How many of these demigods roam Aertu, anyway?” Kor asked.

“That is difficult to say, Excellency, but they will mostly have had to survive over eight millennia since the gods departed our world.  Aside from Goromir, there is no evidence that any others have lived that long.  Now this one, claiming paternity of the Nameless One, will only have needed to survive the four millennia since the war.  There is a chance that he fathered more, but we have never heard of any others.  I believe the Nameless One must have captured some elves, ages ago and twisted them to his purposes.  Normally, elves are incapable of using the red.  These appear to be incapable of using the blue, a purposeful counterpoint to the elves with which we are familiar.”

“Most interesting, Blue,” the High Admiral commented, as they watched the elvish crew drawing up buckets of water and breaking out scrub brushes in an attempt to bring the bridge back to useable condition.  A less squeamish crewmember took hold of the helm as the anchor was drawn up and sails trimmed to the brisk crosswind.  The ship slowly angled away from the dock and then steadily picked up speed as it moved into the open water of the harbor.  “Now I have to wonder where in Aertu they came from and how blasted many there might be.  How is it that we never heard of them before now?”

“They may be hidden, like the homeland of the elves,” Haldor offered.

“Yes, but we still know about where Elvenholm is.  We just can’t sail there, but we know how big it is by the amount of area it excludes us from.”

“It could be that they are far to the north or south, Sir.  That ship looked to be outfitted for cold weather, though I’m no sailor.”

“I think you may be right, Hal.  The widest stretch of open sea is between here and Elvenholm and we’ve never found anything but uninhabited islands out there.  There may just be a large island or two along the ice somewhere in the eastern sea.  I’ll have to study the charts to see if there are any inaccessible areas along the ice sheets, maybe someplace the ice seems to extend too far north or south.  What do you think, Blue?”

“That’s as good a guess as any, Excellency,” the blue wizard replied.  “They may use an illusion of ice to deter investigation.  An alteration of the wind and ocean currents is too obvious if you’re trying to conceal your very existence.  It may not be an illusion either.  If their magic is powerful enough, they could maintain actual ice and open channels when needed.   Shall we keep the docks seeded with bloodstone a while yet, in case they return?  At worst, it will keep my red brethren off the docks for the duration, not that they frequent them anyhow.”

“I think that would be best,” Kor decided.  “I don’t think they will be back soon, but it pays to be careful.  It will take them some time to ferret out all the bloodstone gravel we pelted their ship with and they will be weak until they rid themselves of it.  What is it you normally use that stuff for?”

“We blue wizards like to have it around.  We build it into our houses and studies.  It keeps the air clean and uncluttered for our own magic.  The red wizards use it as a repository for their power, as well.  They cannot handle it directly, so they build it into special warded mechanisms that allow them to draw energy from the stone.  When the time comes, my people will come to collect the stones we secreted, but only after the threat has passed.”

“Don’t you blue wizards have something similar?  What is that crystal at the top of your staff?”

“Yes, Excellency, the blue quartz is similar in the way it stores energy, excepting that it does not forcibly draw the energy to itself.  It is more passive, allowing us to add or withdraw power as needed, without the need for special devices.  Red wizards use it in devices to rid their areas of blue energy, just as we use bloodstone to purge ours of red.”

“Well, that’s all very interesting, boys, but we still have work to do.  Hal, I need you to continue reinforcement along our coastal defenses and if we could get a red and a blue wizard to each of the outposts and warships, that would be wonderful, Blue.”

“Certainly, Excellency, the council is unanimous in our agreement to protect our lands from this new threat by the Nameless One.  As long as we can work out a plan to cover our incidental expenses, we will require no additional recompense.”

“Yes, your people will be integrated into the garrison forces of each outpost and the crews of each ship.  They will receive pay at the grade of Lieutenant, if that is acceptable.”

“I will consult with Red, Excellency, but I am certain those terms will be acceptable.”

“They will be!” a voice shouted from the darkness.  More torches winked into life, as the trio turned to see the Grand Wizard of the Red, revealed in extravagant robes of red and gold and a wide-brimmed conical hat of the same colors.  A large pendant of bloodstone, within a cage of gold filigree, hung from his neck.  “Your offer is quite acceptable, Excellency.  If those Black Sun bastards take over, we’ll all be slaves again, just like we were four thousand years ago.  This is as far as I can go, with all this unshielded bloodstone scattered about, so if you would be so kind as to join me…”

“Are you good, Hal?’ Kor asked the Grand Marshal.

“Of course, Sir and if I have your leave, I will go put things in order now.”  The Grand Marshal saluted his leader and Kor returned the salute smartly.  Haldor turned on his heel and strode down the dock toward the city.

“Don’t you think the hat is a bit over the top, brother?” Blue called out as he and Kor walked to join the red wizard.  It was common knowledge that the Grand Wizards of the Red and the Blue were identical twin brothers, though their personalities were polar opposites.

“I happen to like it,” Red replied.  “It looks wizardly, unlike that bland hood of mystery you favor.  Honestly, I think you enjoy everyone thinking you’re ancient.  We’re only forty-two, but everyone thinks you’re a hundred.  Nice touch with the glowing blue eyes, by the way, made you look like some sort of specter, very unnerving.

“Why thank you, Red.  That may be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“You’re welcome, brother.  Now, if we’re finished here, I believe there’s a pint with my name on it somewhere.  Anyone care to join me, Excellency, brother?”

“I would love to, Red, but there is still much for me to do,” Kor replied.  “Have a good night gentlemen.  Will you get the word out to your people tonight?”

“Already done,” both wizards said, in unison.

Kor walked off to his office with the realization that the pair of wizards had engaged in negotiations and contacted their subordinates, without uttering a single word outside of their inane conversation about hats.

Chapter 23

Gurlachday, Day 13, Squash Moon, 8760 Sudean Calendar

The past week at Dhargul proved most enjoyable for Aleron.  As the Lord Protector’s grandson, afforded him a large degree of freedom and respect, allowing him to see things not normally permitted for outsiders.  Several days prior, guided by Faergas’ sixteen-year-old youngest son Ierick, he saw the dynamo plant producing the energy used to light the city.  Massive water wheels, moved at ponderously slow speeds.  Connected through a series of belts and pulleys, the wheels spun disks bearing coils of copper wire at blinding velocities against other loadstone bearing disks.  A low hum permeated the cavern housing the dynamos, overlaid by the sizzle of sparks, coming from copper brushes pressing against copper plates mounted to the spinning shafts.  “What are those sparking things?” He asked Ierick.  The youth was tall, for his people and had the same dark looks as his father.  Already broad of chest, he would grow to be a formidable dwarf in adulthood.

“We call those switches,” Ierick replied.  “When the power comes off the dynamo, it moves back and forth through the wires.  The switches work to change it to moving in only one direction through the wires.”

“Why do you need to do that?”

“We can use it that way, to light the lamps and such, but when we change it, we can store it for later.”  The young dwarf then showed him to a room filled with huge stoneware crocks, coated in tar, with tar coated copper wires leading out either side of the lids and connecting to heavy copper bars, suspended from the ceiling.  He told Aleron that the crocks held lead plates and acid so powerful that it burns through clothing and skin.  “These are the piles.  We like to call them pickle crocks.  We pump the power into these and we can use it later, when we need more than we are making.” 

“What are those for?” Aleron asked pointing out the rapidly spinning blades, positioned in front of holes cut into the ceiling.  They appeared to be moving under their own power.

“Ventilation fans,” Ierick answered.  “They run off the piles.  If we don’t have those, fumes build up in here and before you know what happened, the roof blows off the pile room.”  Ierick showed him many other things that day and those that followed and they soon became fast friends.  From huge blast furnaces, processing tons of molten metal, to jewel-smithing shops, producing the most intricate forms in bright metals and stones, Aleron observed things he never dreamed were possible.  Dwarves do not use magic of their own, but they more than make up for it in sheer ingenuity.  They even had a way to plate precious metals onto less valuable ones, for instance, making a bronze ornament look like gold or silver. 
Someday men will have this knowledge and it will change the world,
Aleron thought, as he witnessed wonder after wonder in the underground city.  So far, the dwarves had been tight-lipped about their precious “technology” with outsiders, but Aleron knew that it was only a matter of time before the scholars of men would discover the same things the dwarves had.  His grandfather told him that, since the decline of sorcery among men, scholars had been devoting more time to the study of the mundane physical world and had made many new discoveries over the years.  Aleron envisioned machines running under the power of the dynamo and pile, transforming agriculture and transportation in the years to come, as well as giant foundries established in the cities of men.  It would be many years coming, but he was certain that it would be so, some day.

Now it was time for them to leave, if they were to make it over the high passes before the snow began to fly.  Winter comes early to the mountains and smart travelers do not wait for it to set in before attempting to cross.  Aleron and Hadaras were at the stables, loading the horses for their journey to Nhargul, the capital of the Northern Kingdom.  “The next leg will take us at least six weeks,” Hadaras said in answer to Aleron’s inquiry.  Daegle was helping them, as before, along with a younger dwarf named Fingal, whom he was training as a new stable hand.  It’s a rare dwarf who actually enjoys working with animals over mining and smithing.  Fingal was a valuable find for the crusty old groom and he was going to train him up right.

“Now make sure you get the blanket positioned properly lad, so the load doesn’t chafe the poor animal’s back,”
he informed the youngster. “We hass a toof time wit yur tall harses, Gintulfulk,” he told Hadaras and Aleron, “boot da laddy needs da sperience.”