The Broken Sword - Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"Mistress!" Barked one of her scouts. The language they spoke, gutturally, only barely resembled the elvish of modern or ancient times. It had been twisted and modified to fit the vocal abilities of the doguren.

"Visitors, Mistress, visitors come to your realm!" He finished, yapping excitedly as he did so. Kalista smiled down at him and dismissed him, waving her arms in the air before her and causing the very air to shimmer and part in front of her, displaying the scene at the entrance of the city.

Three men stood taking in the sights. They had moved into the city only a little bit, studying everything with meticulous detail. Two of them seemed to be growing tired of it already, however, yet a third remained fascinated by everything. She studied them, learning what she could simply by looking at them.

They were strange to her, they looked similar to ogres, yet they were smaller then she remembered. She wondered if the curse had made the race of ogres fall so far from their one time grandeur. They wore strange clothing too, as well as an overabundance of it. The one that seemed to be in the lead had black hair and... she gasped. He looked like an elf. The facial features and eyes of an elf, a strikingly familiar elf, she realized, yet there was a fullness to him and a way that he moved that marked him as separate from the elven race. She must know more about them.

"Bring them to me," she called out, turning to the general of the doguren. Then she added, "as honored guests, unharmed and willing."

The dog-man growled his assent and nodded to her, turning and barking out orders to those nearest him. They hurried out of the hall, gathering up a patrol of doguren to greet the visitors. Kalista studied the image of the visitors as they methodically explored the city, leaving nothing behind as they moved forward. Soon she would know all she needed to know of them; they would tell her or they would die. Only one person had denied her so far, and that was a recent arrival that she knew was within Thoragloorin but for some reason she could not find them.

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The three companions traveled into the city slowly, taking care to check as much as they could before proceeding. Still, the city was immense; greater than anything they had ever seen in any of their lives. Exploring it all would take months. It was several long minutes before Gregory would even leave the entrance to the city, so caught up was he in examining everything he saw.

Five thousand years had passed but the city was in immaculate condition. Buildings looked to have been abandoned only moments before they arrived, and no dust could be found anywhere. Magic was heavy in the air, both from the seal separating Thoragloorin from Viconia and from the magic that made the city what it was: the pinnacle of architectural achievement by the elven people. Innowendyn was breathtaking and beautiful, but all three were stunned by the artistry and elegance that was Thoragloorin.

"Gregory, it's time to stop gawking," Bobo said over his shoulder. Unseen Gregory scowled at the interruption. Nathanial and the Prince did not understand how important this was to his work.

"One second," Gregory said, studying the fountain in the small grass courtyard of an inn.

"No, right now, we have guests," Nathanial said quietly but intently.

"Oh," Gregory said, straightening up rapidly and turning around.

A single figure approached them, wearing chain mail designed to fit its strange form. All three men studied it carefully, trying to figure out just what it was they faced. Finally Bobo figured it out.

"Doguren!" he hissed. "But much larger then they were supposed to be. The ancients had tamed a race of intelligent wolves, no different then the hunting hounds used by men today, but they used their magic to make them more useful, increasing their intelligence even more and making them so they walked on two legs. They were the servants of the elves."

Gregory's eyes widened at the power required to do what Bobo suggested. Nathanial just grunted acknowledgement. "Are they still friendly?"

Bobo shrugged, "I do not know. It appears they have grown greater still over the ages. They never possessed weapons or armor in the olden days either."

The dog-man was within twenty yards then. He spoke, his voice harsh and braying, but he clearly used a language. Bobo gasped, understanding bits and pieces of it. Gregory, upon listening intently and pondering each word he could make out realized it was a broken form of elvish, albeit an archaic version.

"It speaks a type of elvish," Gregory whispered to Nathanial so he was not totally in the dark.

"They want us to come with them, we are honored guests, it says," Bobo translated.

"Them?" Gregory asked, looking around nervously. "I thought he was the only one."

"No, we are surrounded," Bobo explained. "They hide well."

"I'm not feeling quite so honored all of a sudden," Nathanial commented, also glancing around.

"Something about taking us to their... Queen? Mistress? Goddess? Someone important who wants to meet us."

"Maybe she can help us," Nathanial pointed out. "If she's been here a while she must know a few things that can help us solve the riddle of bringing down the shield."

"Or maybe she prefers the isolation," Gregory pointed out.

"Why do you always do that?" Nathanial asked him, scowling.

"What?" Asked the wizard, feigning innocence. Nathanial continued to glare at him.

Bobo haltingly spoke to the emissary, choosing his words carefully so as not to offer any insult as he tried to adapt to the strange dialect. He finished and the doguren nodded and turned, walking down the wide road towards the center of the town.

"Let us go," Bobo said, walking after the dog-man. Gregory and Nathanial glanced at each other and saw no answer lay in each other's eyes, so they followed the prince into the unknown.

Unseen and unheard behind them, a score of doguren emerged from various hiding places and followed after. Nearly two dozen others moved along side on parallel roads, ensuring that the three could not escape if they suddenly decided to run for it.

Even more unseen by everyone a figure slipped from shadow to shadow, following at a distance to both the newcomers and the large company of doguren.

---

"I have lost them," Alesha said, turning from the still pool of dark water in front of her. Kelnozz nodded, his fists clenched both in frustration and to help stem the flow of blood from his palms where his knife had cut deeply into them.

She waved her hand and the image in the water disappeared, leaving only the red tinted water behind. "Wash your hands in the water, it will help," she told him. Kelnozz nodded and knelt down, opening his hands and immersing them in the small pool.

He gasped as the fiery agony of the cuts in his hands lessened. The water was warm at first, but cooled the longer his hands remained in it. Not only that, but the color of it lessened as well, until at the last it was transparent again as water should be. He pulled his hands out and stood up, staring at his palms. Gone were the deep cuts, in their place were fresh scars that were still pink and tender to the touch.

"The magic used some of your blood as fuel, what remained is restored to you," Alesha explained, smiling softly. Kelnozz nodded, she had told him that she could scry upon their son but the cost to do so would be painful. Kelnozz had, of course, agreed instantly. As in all things throughout his life when he set his mind to something he would sacrifice nearly anything to see it done.

"In the olden days you would not have needed a sacrifice for such a thing," Kelnozz pointed out, finally relinquishing his worries over his son and turning to her.

"In the old days I would have the stored energy of countless sacrifices already within me," she pointed out.

"What of the power you stole from Bavorish?" Kelnozz asked.

Alesha shivered. "Yes, I have that, but his is more destructive. I keep that buried deep inside me until those times when I need it. It makes me feel... unholy, I guess, using it."

Kelnozz nodded. He might not be able to emphasize with her but he could understand on a rational level what she was saying. He smiled at her. "And to think I almost killed you because I thought you lost to evil."

"Several times," Alesha reminded him with a grin. Kelnozz shrugged sheepishly, then glanced back at the pool. His expression sobered.

"Well?" Alesha asked, knowing fresh troubling thoughts had entered his mind. "Are you envious of him or frightened for him?"

It was a good question, Kelnozz had to admit. "I wonder if the years have driven her mad."

"Or perhaps she has realized the error of her ways. Some of us do that, you know," Alesha said with a smile. Kelnozz faintly returned it, but in the case of his mother, whom he could not remember having ever met, he felt such was not the case.

Continued in Chapter 8

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