Chapter 6: Search for Peace

         A shadow fell over the ground as a later of heavy clouds rolled across the sky, blocking out the bright evening rays of sunlight. From, Garz, and Ragefist moved along the road around the dwarven mountains. When Ragefist had awaken, he pleaded for Grom to rest, but he refused and pushed to start their journey to Flamecrest. After rousing a grumpy Garz and a few hours of walking, they came upon the road and were on their way back south.

         The distinct smell of moisture filled Grom’s nostrils, and he knew then that the dark clouds would soon cry life’s tears upon them. Rain fell in tiny drops from the sky, and Grom moved quicker along the path. As the sky grew darker, the rainfall increased. They went on for some time, trudging through the dirt road that began to thicken into piles of mud. Garz took a step forward and tumbled downward as his leg sunk into a deep pile of mud and held on tight.

         “Argh! We should find a place to rest a while! I can barely see through this rain!” Garz shouted over the rattling splashing of the downpour.

         “No, we need to keep going!” Grom shouted back, shielding his eyes from the blowing rains.

         A blinding arc of light flashed before their eyes, striking a distant tree. A boon of thunder followed, and a blaze of flame rose for a moment before being quenched by the rain. A large branch from the top of the tree broke away and plummeted to the ground near the road.

         “Garz is right! We can rest underneath the overhanging ledges of the mountain!” Ragefist shouted, stopping and pointing toward the towering mass of rock.

         “Fine! We’ll head that way and wait for the storm to pass!” Grom bellowed, turning away from the road. He marched toward the rock, not looking back to see if the others were following. He knew that they were, and deep down he wished that they weren’t so that he could continue on his own and finish what he needed to do. For a moment he felt as if Ragefist and Garz were slowing him down.

         When they reached the relative safety of the rocks, Garz immediately fell onto his backside and wiped away the mud that clung to his face and his beard. He grumbled about never being able to get the mud out, but Grom didn’t care to listen to his gripes. He moved away from both Garz and Ragefist and stood several paces away, staring out into the rain. It fell so hard that it created an ever moving wall that blocked their path into the world. He closed his eyes and listened to each tiny drop falling and hitting the ground, each sound rising and mixing with the thousands upon thousands of others to create the soothing and lulling music. The rolling of thunder interrupted the intricate dance of notes, and a tap on his shoulder interrupted the tranquility of his silence.

         “What’s the matter, Grom? You don’t seem yourself. Maybe you should try and get some sleep. It doesn’t look like the rain is going to let up anytime soon,” Ragefist said over his shoulder.

         “It was raining the day that the death began,” Grom said. His thoughts came out as words, and they startled him. Once he realized that he actually uttered them, he coughed and tried to cover it up.

         “What do you mean?” Ragefist asked.

         They had traveled along these very mountains to find the dark elf that had taken Cloey away, and it was that very day that Isac made the sacrifice for his brother, saving his life. Grom would never forget that day, or any of the days that he lost one of his closest friends. Those that stood immortal in stone on the streets of Oneria paid the price for their eternal stances with their lives. They paid the price of death so that everyone else could live. Yet somehow Grom survived, and in surviving he suffered far greater than the fallen heroes of Feldos. The rain that fell before him reminded him of every pain he suffered through, and he wanted to step out into it and wash it all away.

         “Grom?” Ragefist asked again, stepping to his side and squinting to get a good look at his face.

         “It’s nothing. Don’t you go worrying about me. You’re right, I just need to get some rest,” Grom said, turning and offering a half smile to the young soldier.

         “You do that. I’ll keep an eye on the weather and wake you if things calm down,” Ragefist said, smiling back at his captain.

         Grom nodded and dropped down against the wall of the mountain. He tossed his axe and his pack down to his side and closed his eyes again. Exhaustion took hold and dragged him to the land of uneasy sleep.

         *                    *                    *

         They started again the next morning when the rain had slowed to a stop, and they continued down the path for the next few days until they reached the fork in the road. An old wooden sign stood at the crossroads, pointing in all three directions. Worn red paint covered each sign, reading the names of the three towns: Oneria, Flamecrest, and Sagarian.

         “Talk about convenience,” Garz said, chuckling to himself.

         They took the long road to Flamecrest, stopping during the day only to eat a small meal and at night for a few hours of rest. Grom kept them moving, telling them that they could spend a full night at an inn when they arrived. Along the way, they came across several carts and merchant caravans, which became a welcome change of pace from the emptiness of their journey thus far. The landscape changed drastically as they moved along. The lush vegetation of the fields and forests of Feldos gave way for more arid, barren lands. After a grueling week of travel, the towering gates rose out in the distance, welcoming them to their destination.

         Grom felt unprepared for the vastness of the kingdom. The gates ahead of him were only a tiny crevice into a much larger world. By peering ahead into the open gates, Grom witnessed a whole other world within the enclosing walls. Buildings stretched as far as he could see, and a sea of humanity wandered along the streets on the hot afternoon. He wondered how far the city stretched and how long it would take to travel to get to the castle or palace of the king.

         Grom expected to be met by guards at the gate, but when they finally reached the opening to the city, the posted guards did little more than throw a glance their way. Taking their first steps into the city, they looked upon a street lined with homes that stretched onward into a mass of moving bodies. Many other streets branched off of the main road, leading to yet more houses and buildings. The homes were made from stone, and their cracked sides looked pale in the blistering sunlight. The entirety of the town looked like one large garden of humanity created by some eternal farmer from far above.

         “This town is massive! How are we going to ever find our way around?” Ragefist asked, staring wide-eyed around him.

         “So many sights to see!” Garz shouted. He rubbed his hands together and whispered to himself with a fiendish smile. “And so many pockets to pick.”

         Grom and his companions moved forward down the crowded main street into the heart of the town. As they managed to maneuver their way closer, they found themselves in the middle of a lavish, far-stretching market. Grom remembered the size of Anon’s own market, but it paled in comparison to what they stepped into.

         The sounds and smells and sights from every cart and stand excited Grom’s senses, and he found himself stopping along the way to examine multi-colored beaded necklaces, shining stones, and fresh-cooked food. The vendors called out one after another, attempting to draw in everyone as they passed. Checking over his shoulder from time to time to make sure he hadn’t lost Ragefist and Garz, Grom kept moving through the flow of movement.

         They eventually found their way out of the busy center of town and came upon some much larger shops. The signs hung on metal chains above each door, letting the wandering people know what they had to offer. One particular sign caught Garz’s attention, as he stopped and stared upward at the swaying piece of wood.

         “Full Barrel Tavern and Inn,” Garz said, reading from the intricate and freshly painted letters on the sign, “That sounds like my kind of place!”

         “Wait just a minute!” Grom said, grabbing Garz’s arm before he marched inside, “Let’s see if we can get some of our questions answered before we have a seat and a few drinks.”

         Garz grumbled his displeasure but conceded in moving onward past the luxury of a barstool and a mug of fine ale. Truthfully, Grom wanted the same thing rest that Garz did, but he dared not admit that he thought at all like the rude, thieving gas bag.

         As they ushered forward, they saw the destination that they were searching for. Before them stood the tall towers of a lavish castle. The sheer size of the building made Oneria’s castle look minuscule like a speck of dirt in a handful of sand. Thoughts of their army entered his mind, and he wondered how many captains and generals this town had. Oneria had a sizeable militia, but only Jonathan and himself trained and led the men in protecting the land. The number of soldiers wandering the inside and outside of this gargantuan structure had to equal the entire number of soldiers in all of Oneria. It amazed Grom that they had not already tried to wipe Anon and the wild elves out completely.

         Grom wasted little time in marching up to the front entrance to the castle, and the guards standing by responded with the same quickness. They wore lighter suits of chain armor and light colored cloaks to help keep the warming sunlight off of them as much as possible. They each leaned against a wooden pike with a metal blade at the end and held them out at the three as they approached.

         “Halt! Citizens may not venture past this point,” one of the guards said, eyeing the two dwarves and lone human in heavy armor.

         “Then you’re in luck, cause we’re not citizens,” Garz said. The guards perplexed guards looked back and forth between one another and the three, tightening the grip on their weapons. Ragefist administered a swift kick to the back of Garz’s leg as a warning to keep quiet.

         “What my friend meant to say is that we are here to speak with the king concerning the troubles with the elves of Feldos,” Grom said, keeping his hands at his side as a show of peace.

         “Who are you to request audience with King Kalabar? He will see no one unless he calls upon them,” the second guard spoke.

         “My name is Grom Greystone, a captain of Oneria’s armed forces. I have come as a representative of my homeland to discuss the situation and suggest ways in which we can help bring peace between the kingdoms of Flamecrest and Anon,” Grom said, bowing his head and waiting for the word to enter.

         The response that followed caught Grom off-guard. The two soldiers chuckled at first, but their laughter grew until they could barely keep their weapons steady in front of them.

         “I’m sorry, but King Kalabar has better things to do than listen to the idealistic words of a dwarf. Worry yourself with defending your own borders against the elves before it is too late, and we will worry about defending our own land,” the first guard said, drawing in a deep breath to keep from laughing again.

         “Listen, we’ve come a very long way to get here and have been through all sorts of troubles. All we’re asking is a few moments with the king or someone that will listen to what we have to say,” Ragefist said.

         “I don’t think so. Move along now!” the second guard said, shaking his polearm menacingly at them.

         Just as Grom’s hope dropped down to the ground beneath his feet, a tall man in a long blue robe stepped from the entrance to the castle and stood behind the two guards. They both turned at once as if he had given them any indication of his arrival. Lowering their weapons, they stepped aside and allowed him to step forward between them. His bald head reflected the rays of sunlight, and he examined them with deep amber eyes.

         “Sir Tallan,” the two guards said in unison, bowing their heads.

         “I happened to overhear some commotion, so I decided to come see what was the matter. Is there a problem?” Tallan said, speaking with a gentle voice. His words soothed Grom’s nerves and lifted his spirit on a new set of wings.

         “These travelers say that they are from Oneria and wish to speak with King Kalabar,” the first guard said, keeping his head down.

         “And why wasn’t I informed immediately?” Tallan asked.

         “We thought that our king would be too busy to see anyone, so we turned them away,” the second guard admitted.

         “Next time, I would appreciate that you come and seek my guidance. Do I make myself clear?” Tallan asked.

         “Yes, Sir Tallan,” the guards again said at the same time.

         “Good,” Tallan said. He turned his attention back to the three and offered a smile. “You all look tired. I will talk with King Kalabar tonight and discuss a time for you to meet him here at the castle. Until then, you appear to need some rest. Perhaps you should seek a room for the night. I will send a message to you in the morning. What names shall I give my king?”

         “Garz Steeltooth, master fighter and drinker!” Garz shouted, puffing out his chest.

         “Please forgive his rude behavior. Tell your king that Grom Greystone from Oneria wishes to speak with him concerning the hostilities with Anon. It is most urgent that I speak with him,” Grom said.

         “Hmmm,” Tallan mumbled to himself. He stared Grom up and down as if he were trying to remember something. A spark lit in his eyes, and he began waving his hand in the air, drawing and pulling at the nothingness. “I know your name. You are the one responsible for defeating Lord Astaroth of Mortillus.”

         Grom was tired of hearing the same thing time and time again wherever he went. He answered with a nod and mustered a smile in return.

         “I will speak with him as soon as I can and tell him of your arrival. I am sure he will be happy to meet you. I suggest that you rest at The Full Barrel. Tell the keeper that I sent you there and you should be allowed to stay there with no fee,” Tallan said.

         “Thank you very much,” Grom replied.

         Tallan turned and walked back through the entrance to the castle, his robe following behind him along the ground.

         “I guess we’ll just have to wait,” Grom said, turning around to his companions. “Wait, where is Garz?”

         “The man mentioned the tavern and Garz ran like he were being chased by an army of orcs,” Ragefist said, shaking his head and pointing off in the distance. They could see Garz running off into the crowd, cheering and knocking into everyone on his way to The Full Barrel Inn and Tavern.

         “What a fool,” Grom mumbled. He hoisted his pack up onto his back again and hurried after the ecstatic dwarf.

         *                    *                    *

         Word came the next morning that King Kalabar requested audience with them. After a meal of eggs, sausage, and toast, which was the most any of them have had in days, they returned to the streets and made their way back to the castle. The guards greeted them with welcoming smiles rather than pointed spears and led them through the front gates of the castle. Grom expected the entrance to lead into a great hall, but they walked across a covered bridge across a flowing river, the first body of water that they had seen in this arid land. The water seemed to bring life to the grounds that were covered with lush grasses. The bridge stretched on and on along this outer courtyard until it finally came to an end at the stone walls of the castle. The posted guards called out for the doors to open, and they slowly pushed inward. The guards bowed their heads as the first two soldiers escorted the three into the true interior of the building.

         “Look at all the tapestries and decorations! They must be worth a small fortune,” Garz said, his voice coming out a bit too excited. He rubbed his hands together and allowed his eyes to dance about the room. Grom swore he saw a bit of saliva hanging from the corner of his mouth.

         “Don’t get any thoughts,” Ragefist whispered, jabbing him in the side with his elbow, “We’re guests here. If you get caught thieving, we’re going to leave you in the cells to rot like you should have been.”

         The main hall towered up high with tier upon tier of overhanging balconies, each with banners of blue and white silk hanging from them. Statues lined the walls like immobile sentries in impenetrable stone armor. The ceiling of the hall was constructed from what appeared to be glass, giving those that grace the castle’s vast room a view of the heavens. Grom could almost hear the music of the exalted enwrapping his body and soul.

         “Please follow us into the assembly hall. You can wait there and the king shall join you shortly,” one of the two guards said before moving off toward the set of doors standing ahead of them.

         They exited the vast openness of godlike beauty into a wider room with a crushing low ceiling. A carpet of red stretched along the ground to another set of doors. More statues of brave warriors stood watch in the room, keeping their eyes on those like Garz with wandering hands.

         “Wait here a moment,” one of the guards spoke. He moved to the new set of doors and slipped through them into the next room. The other guard stood at the door, leaning on his polearm and stifling a yawn. Grom chuckled to himself; he knew the rigors that soldiers went through on a daily basis.

         While Garz wandered the room to get a better look at all the fineries of the place, Ragefist and Grom stood like two newly created statues of flesh and bone. Grom wondered what King Kalabar was like. He had heard things here and there about him, but even though Oneria and Flamecrest had a strong alliance, Grom had never associated with anyone from their kingdom until their arrival at the city gates. Wonder and expectations ran wild in Grom’s mind, yet he managed to stand still and keep focused, unlike Garz, who let out constant groans and shouting laughter as he made his way around the room.

         The doors burst open once again with the accompaniment of high-ringing horns. Grom and Ragefist dropped to one knee, while an unfazed Garz continued looking about at the room’s shining wonders. The guard re-entered the room and moved to the side of the doors, bowing his head. Grom glanced upward for a moment and saw a form wrapped in sand-colored clothing and a black cape down to his feet. A gem at the end of a sword hilt gleamed with a yellow twinkle, and Grom lowered his head again out of respect.

         “Come now, you have no reason to kneel to me. In fact, I should be bowing to such a brave dwarf like yourself. Come, stand up.”

         Both Grom and Ragefist stood and raised their heads. Grom looked up into the face of a tall man with brown-tanned skin and dark brown eyes. His coarse black hair was cut short and parted on both sides. Tallan, the man they met the day before, stood behind him, wearing the same brilliant blue robes.

         “It is an honor to finally meet you, King Talabar,” Grom said, bowing his head.

         “The honor is all my own. Who are your two companions?” the king asked, looking first to Ragefist and then to Garz, who continued to wander about aimlessly.

         “My name is Ragefist En, soldier of Oneria’s militia. That other dwarf over there...” Ragefist began.

         “Mah name is Garz Steeltooth! Don’t act like I’m not listening, boy. I heard the man’s question, I just didn’t feel like answering right away,” Garz said, releasing his hold on a hanging drapery an turning around.

         “Knock it off, Garz,” Grom hissed through clenched teeth.

         King Kalabar’s head shook with laughter. “There is no need for hostility. You are our guests here, and I am glad that you have come. Is there trouble in Oneria that seeks my attention? If that is so, you have come at a terrible time. Our troops are readying themselves for the battle on the horizon.”

         “I can happily report that all is well in Oneria,” Grom said. As he spoke those words, he thought again of the suitors that plagued the town like maggots to carrion. “In fact, I have come here concerning the safety of your own kingdom.”

         “What is it that you mean?” King Kalabar asked, losing a bit of his softness and warmth.

         Grom opened his mouth and closed it again. He didn’t want to come right out and accuse him of starting a battle and throwing lives away for the wrong reasons. Grom knew the elves of Anon; he did not know much at all about Kalabar and the men of Flamecrest.

         “From what I hear, you’re fighting those damned pointy-ears for no good reason. We’re here to stop you and spread some lovin’,” Garz blurted out. Ragefist growled and shot him an angry look, to which Garz shrugged in response.

         “Garz speaks some truth through his stupidity. We believe that your fighting with Anon has escalated to a point that could bring about war. As a captain of Oneria and witness to what war can bring about, I have come to warn you of the darkness you will bring upon your kingdom and Feldos. If you wish, Queen Anne could arrange to speak with both you and the elder elves of Anon,” Grom said.

         “Enough!” King Kalabar shouted. His tone shifted in a single moment as if the branch of his patience had been snapped in two. “The business of Flamecrest is mine alone to worry about. Do not concern yourself with our affairs with Anon. They were the ones that closed their doors to trade, and they are the ones building up their forces. I am only readying our people for the potential troubles ahead. I might suggest that you make your journey back to Oneria and do the same.”

         “King Kalabar,” Grom raised his voice and stepped forward. Ragefist reached out and grabbed his shoulder.

         “I said enough! I will not agree to talk peace with the elves. I care only to keep my people safe and alive. If that means rallying my troops and putting pressure on the elves to keep them from our borders, then we will do just that. Now, I have other business to attend. If you have nothing further to discuss, then I shall be on my way,” King Kalabar said, nodding his head. He turned away and took a step forward, stopping at the open doorway. “Perhaps the legend I heard of Grom Greystone’s heroics is false.”

         Grom gripped his fists closed, and he watched the king and Tallan walk away through the doors. The slamming of the doors echoed throughout the room, and Grom was left with his companions.

         “Do not worry, Grom. We’ll think of something,” Ragefist said, patting Grom’s shoulder.

         Grom heard Kalabar’s last words repeated in his mind. He did not want to see Feldos threatened by war once again. What were these legends that had spread throughout Feldos? The only tales he knew were those that remained etched in his mind and scarred in his heart. He needed to become that hero once again and prevent the deaths of thousands, but in his heart, he did not know how to do so.

ID: 1036615   (Rated: 13+) Chapter 7: City Under Siege  Word arrives from Deathwish that Sagarian is under elven control... by The Lemon