DAUGHTERS
OF THE SKY
Episode 1 The Slavers of El
Arish
Chapter
1 The Sky Maidens
Thebaria watched from the high ramparts of the Aerie as the now tiny figures of her daughters faded into the distance. Before her was a drop of several thousand feet, but her eyes were fixed on her children. She took a deep breath and then turned her glittering emerald eyes toward the tall, dark-haired warrior that stood beside her. Gently he placed a hand around her shoulders. “They have been well-trained,” he said. “As a matter of fact they could have no better teacher.”
Thebaria smiled at the compliment. “It is just that they seem so young. Barely sixteen summers.”
Her husband shrugged. “It is the age at which all Shebaria are sent out. “You could hardly expect that they would not want to go.”
“I know,” Thebaria answered. “It is just that…” She couldn’t finish. She had known the day would come when her daughters would fly off without her, but she had not expected it would be so hard.
She shook her head. “I don’t know what it is, Landeriel. It is just a strange feeling. Call it a mother’s intuition, but I sense evil touching my daughters. I know that it is foolish, but that is just the way it is.”
Lenderiel pulled her closer, sheltering her slender frame in his arms. “Perhaps it is just a mother’s protective instinct,” he ventured, but at the same time he gave his wife a perceptive look. Thebaria had been known to have such feelings before and each time they had been shown to have some substance.
“I hope you are right,” Thebaria answered without conviction. “But it matters not what we think. They cannot be recalled until they have finished their maiden quest.”
“They will be fine,” Landeriel, returned. “They are a product of our loins. What better heritage could they have?”
Thebaria smiled wanly. “You are right of course.” But a shiver ran down her spine even as she turned away from her now invisible daughters.
Asharia grinned wildly at her sister. They were flying almost wingtip to wingtip and could see every expression on one another’s faces. Hundreds of feet below, the brilliant green landscape of Lemuria rolled past. This close to the Aerie the ground beneath them was familiar, but she could not help feeling a fierce joy as she soared away from the only home she had ever known. It was an irrational emotion as all she loved and honoured were there, but nevertheless she could not contain her exuberance at finally being completely free.
Delendria caught Asharia’s mood. Although her sister had not spoken she knew her mind almost as if she was inside her head. Born only seconds apart, they shared the innate quality, possessed by many twins, of knowing the other’s unspoken thoughts. With a whoop of joy she turned her head into the rush of hair, allowing it to sweep the four-foot ebony braid straight out from the back of her head. Her sister screamed back, her unbound blonde tresses whipping around her face.
At a glance the two sisters seemed quite dissimilar, but a closer observation revealed numerous similarities, from the cerulean blue of their eyes to their petite physiques. Both were striking in their own right, possessing a delicate and almost nymph-like beauty; an exotic appearance emphasized by the shape of their Elven ears and the jeweled gleam of their eyes.
Both appeared barely into their teens, a characteristic of their race. Elven women matured late; and Asharia’s and Delendriel’s short stature and petite build added to their youthful appearance. It had to be that way, however, due to the role each played in Elven society. They were Shebaria - Gryphon Riders, and the magnificent beasts that carried them were breathtakingly beautiful.
Wingtip to wingtip each of the legendary creatures spanned thirty feet. Their hindquarters were those of an enormous lion, but the forequarters ended not in paws, but in powerful four-taloned claws; and from the shoulders forward each beast had the body of an eagle. It seemed incredible that two such slender maidens could control such giant creatures, but the first impression of the two female warriors was quite deceiving.
No reins guided the giant avians; instead the two girls relied upon voice commands and the gentle pressure of their knees to direct their steeds in the direction they wished. The gryphons had been a part of the two girls’ lives since they had been old enough to walk. They had been introduced to the magnificent creatures when the gryphons were only fledglings and a deep bond had developed between them. Asharia called her gryphon, a female, "Sky" and Delendria had named her male gryphon, "Fire." They were formidable fighting creatures and few adversaries would have dared stand up to such terrifying creatures.
As was fitting for the riders of two such marvelous beasts the young women were strikingly dressed. A silver diadems encircled their foreheads. In the center of each band was a blazing red ruby, the emblem of their order.
White fur-lined cloaks trimmed with blue protected each of the riders from the sun as well as the cooler temperatures of higher elevations. Beneath concealing overgarments each girl’s arms were ringed with silver armbands, and about each of their slender necks hung an amulet on which was mounted each girl’s name gem; azurite for Asharia and a sapphire for her sister.
Next to her skin each maiden wore a padded vest and over that a corset of the finest chain mail. The shining metal gleamed with the brightness of a mirror where the sunlight touched it. A glittering belt of woven silver girdled each girl’s waist. The belts supported swords forged by the greatest armorers of Lemuria. The keen-edged blades were capable of sheering through flesh and bone as a hot knife cuts through butter. Slung from each of the harnesses that secured the girls to the back of their aerial steeds was a bow and a full quiver of arrows.
Each young woman’s ensemble was completed by fur-lined trousers tucked into thigh-length brown leather boots. A shield, curved to fit the body of the gryphon, hung from the harness, just in front of each girl’s knee.
The girls’ slight build seemed to contradict their warlike equipment. But appearances were deceiving. It took strength to be a Shebaria, and Asharia and Delendria had been training from the age they were old enough to hold a sword. Although small, they were physically strong, the product of millennia of breeding and tradition that had developed female warriors in a reversal of the norm in most societies. Their light weight suited them perfectly as riders of their almost mythical steeds. Although powerful flyers, the less weight a gryphon carried the greater its range and the better its performance in battle. Thus it was that although all members of Elven society learned to fly, only young women were trained as Shebaria. It was a small and very elite group, numbering less than two hundred riders.
Asharia and her sister were well aware of this tradition as they leveled the gryphons out for sustained flight. It was the first time they had flown unaccompanied and although the mission chosen was very routine they were filled with pride, excitement, and a determination to make sure that they did not disgrace their clan or family.
Asharia remembered her mother’s words as she had sent them off. “Experience is a precious commodity best accumulated a little at a time. I have trained you well; now it is up to you to prove yourselves. Go with the blessings of the Goddess and return safely.” She had finished by kissing her and Delendria on the cheek and had then gone to the ramparts to watch them depart.
It was a simple mission, one that would not test their novice skills unduly. Asharia and Delendria were the most gifted novitiates Thebaria had ever trained, but she wanted to start them off slowly. As a result, she had sent her daughters on a routine flight to Kharag, one of the more distant outposts of the mountainous region inhabited by the Dwarfs. Their mission was to escort a caravan of precious stones from the gem mines of Ulthor to the trading town of Cyban. Long ago such caravans would have been targeted by the Elves themselves, but centuries of bloody and senseless warfare between Elf and Dwarf had finally ended more than an Elven lifetime ago. Now Dwarf and Elf worked together, albeit sometimes grudgingly.
Both maidens were somewhat disappointed at being assigned to such mundane duty, but they knew it could not be otherwise. As their mother had said, “You must first learn to mount a gryphon before you can fly,” or some such aphorism. Thebaria frequently spoke in proverbs and Asharia and Delendria had developed the ability, common in many children, of screening out much of what their mother said. However, they could not screen out the mission she had assigned; not if they wished to be allowed fly on more adventurous missions.
Asharia mused that caravans were sometimes attacked by bandits. That would be something at least, provided any potential bandits were not terrified out of their wits by the sight of the gryphons. She sighed, resigning herself to the routine assignment she had been given. Perhaps next time…
Her attention was diverted by the landscape below. For the first time in her life she was flying over unfamiliar terrain. The gryphons moved with tremendous speed, covering in minutes what would have taken a person on foot an entire day. Hills, valleys, fields, and towns passed below them. Both young women were fascinated by the ever-changing panorama. They had, of course, flown before, but never this far from the sacred cloister where they had trained since infancy. They were experiencing a whole new world and were enjoying every minute of it. Asharia’s gryphon suddenly gave a sharp cry. Its telescopic eyesight had picked up something far below.
"Down," Asharia commanded. The huge creature folded its wings and dropped like a stone. Delendria repeated the order and followed directly behind her.
“Hold,” Asharia said, and the gryphon spread its wings, once more resuming level flight. The gut-emptying plunge would have made most people sick, but neither girl was bothered by such sudden changes in altitude. Skimming a hundred feet above the treetops the gryphons circled, giving their riders a chance to see what had caught the gryphon’s eye.
Just below them was a small clearing in the center of which was a farmstead. The area over which they had been flying was known as the Wilderness, a wild region owned by no lord or race. Heavily forested, in recent years a few Men had begun to settle along the fringes. Most of these were escaped bondsmen, fleeing their noble masters in search of land of their own. It was backbreaking work to clear an area of forest large enough to sustain a family, but it offered a life free of the burdensome obligations demanded by the large landowners. However, the isolated homesteads were subject to the predations of the lawless bands of ruffians who would rather take from others rather than provide for themselves, and what each of the young women saw filled her with a quiet rage.
A band of forest brigands had descended upon the small farm and had taken the farmer and his family prisoner. Although such tiny holdings had little of value that would appeal to a band of the marauding forest bandits; this one had something most Men would find valuable; the farmer’s two comely daughters. All of this the Elven eyesight of the two Shebaria picked out immediately. Asharia guessed that the two girls were no older than about 15. The two frightened young women had been trussed up in preparation for marching them off into the forest. The robbers no doubt intended to either sell them into slavery or to make use of them themselves. The farmer and his wife, taken by surprise, had offered little resistance. It probably would have made little difference if they had. They were outnumbered seven to one and were poorly armed and had no military training. They too had been tied hand and foot, and could only watch helplessly as the robbers prepared to lead their children away.
It was the weeping of the young girls and the wailing of her parents that Asharia’s gryphon had heard. Asharia’s mouth clenched in a straight line, as did Delendria’s. Each of the warriors reached for her bow, while the gryphons circled lower, closing the range to less than a hundred yards. In an impressive display of strength, Asharia bent her powerful compound bow until the arrow was next to her ear and let fly.
Shooting from the back of a gryphon was much more difficult than the two maidens made it appear. The swirl of air from the gryphon’s wings created considerable turbulence, and the forward movement of the beasts created considerable airflow. Either factor made it likely that the arrow would go anywhere but where the archer intended. A still more important problem was that of avoiding the gryphon itself. Since each rider sat just forward of the enormous wingspan, shooting to the rear was impossible without impaling the gryphon. That meant that the only option was to shoot over the shoulders and into the rush of air as the gryphon moved forward. It was an almost impossible situation as air resistance made accurate shooting almost impossible.
But the two Shebaria had been taught well. Asharia leaned perilously over the right side of Sky, hooking her left leg into the harness, while keeping her right in the stirrup, and then loosed her arrow.
The barbed missile was deadly effective, striking one of the brigands who was holding one of the girls just below his collarbone. With a gurgling scream, he fell to his knees, clutching at the feathered shaft, the point of which projected a good foot from the lower part of his back. Next to him a second robber took Delendria’s arrow in the throat. He tried to scream, but his larynx was pierced through. He fell, blood pouring from his mouth. For a few seconds the stunned robbers simply stood where they were, paralyzed with surprise and fear. That hesitation cost two more of them their lives, as two more arrows struck home. Leaving their captives, the three remaining villains took to their heels.
The gryphons had swept silently into position and it was unlikely that the outlaws even knew where the attack had come from, but they had no intention of remaining where they were. Shouting oaths they disappeared into the thick cover of the forest.
"Land," Asharia commanded. Sky folded her wings and dropped into the clearing, followed closely by Fire. The small clearing was just large enough for both of the gryphons to set down. Upon reaching the ground both of the women warriors dropped from their mounts, their bows still at the ready. But there was no threat from the robbers. Their flight could be easily heard as they crashed through the forest.
Asharia looked at the four dead robbers. She felt exhilaration, but also a sense of shame that she had killed another sentient being. Delendria’s face paled as she looked at the bodies. Their adventure had taken an unexpectedly violent twist, but both maidens knew that there had been little choice. Had they not intervened the girls they had rescued would have been condemned to a horrible fate. Now they knew a little bit more about what their heritage meant. Trained for war; they had now experienced bloodshed firsthand and it was not a pleasant experience.
A moan from one of the victims of the robbers turned their mind from the bodies sprawled on the ground. The victims were still bound hand and foot and the youngest girl was crying piteously. Quickly the Elven maidens cut the bonds of the holding the two girls and their parents, and then stared in amazement as the people they had rescued prostrated themselves in front of them. “The Goddess protect us,” the father said, his trembling voice filled with both wonder and fear. Beside him the mother made what sounded like a stifled sob, while the two daughters whimpered in obvious terror.
Nonplussed, Asharia and Delendria stood self-consciously while the peasants they had rescued groveled at their feet. Were they regarded as saviours or a new threat? They had not expected such a reaction from people they had just rescued. Finally Delendria stepped forward. “Get up,” she commanded. “We will do you no harm.”
Awkwardly the peasant family did as they were ordered. Although the father towered over the two Elves, and even the youngest daughter topped them by a head, they stared fearfully at the Elf maidens and then flicked their eyes toward the two giant gryphons. “Nor will they,” Asharia said, reassuringly. “They answer to our command.”
For a number of seconds there was an uncomfortable silence and then the father found his tongue. “Thanks be to your Elven highnesses,” he stammered. “The Goddess herself must have sent you. We be forever in your debt.”
Immediately the other members of the family echoed his sentiments, heaping praise on the two blushing Elves. Finally Delendria held up her hand for silence. “We deserve no praise for our actions. We were in no danger from the outlaws we dispersed.”
"We cannot pay for so great a service," said the grateful mother, "but you
must stay with us for the
The woman noticed their gaze and patted her belly. “Seven months,” she said with pride. “We’re hoping for another boy.”
“Another?” Asharia asked.
“Ah,” said the father. “Our two sons be off hunting. It was why the robber scum attacked. They knew they had only me to deal with. But enough of us. You must join us for a meal. I be sorry to say we cannot feed your beasts. “We have not the resources.”
“Game seems plentiful in this region,” Delendria answered. “We will send them to hunt while we enjoy your hospitality.”
It was with obvious relief that the family watched the two maidens free the gryphons from their harnesses and send them to hunt. As Sky and Fire flapped into the air, the Elves accompanied the woodland family toward their rough farm.
The farmstead was a crude building, constructed out of rough logs chinked with moss and measuring fifteen by thirty feet. It was small enough for a family of six soon to be seven, and it turned out to be even smaller when it was revealed that half of the building was set aside as a barn. It was a level of existence that the Elven maidens could not have imagined had they not seen it.
Delendria and Asharia would rather not have had their journey delayed, but realized that it would have been bad manners not to accept the hospitality of the forest family. The farmer and his family wanted desperately to show their appreciation for what the two maidens had done, and they had nothing else that they could offer. And so they accepted the meal, mindful as well of the fact that the gesture would help to further relations between Men and Elves and perhaps dispel some of the irrational fear that existed in the minds of Men.
The meal was served outside, the hut being barely large enough for the family and the weather being warm and sunny. The meal itself was simple fare, as the mother had said, but it was no doubt the best the family could provide. It consisted of thick slabs of coarse bread, sliced smoked venison, and garden greens. Both girls hoped that they were not depriving the family of the food they needed to survive, but it would have been insulting to refuse their hospitality and so they ate until they were full, pushing away their trenchers with polite groans of satisfaction.
During the meal both maidens had time to study their hosts. They had, of course, known about the strange race known as Men, but never in their brief lives had they any opportunity to meet any. Now they were surrounded by them and had ample opportunity to familiarize themselves with the species.
The two girls were rather pretty, with long straw-coloured hair done up in twin braids. Although their features by Elven standards were rather heavy, their youth gave them a certain appeal, although both Elves found their rounded ears and multicoloured eyes very strange.
The mother, with her thickening waist seemed worn down by the hard life she led. Probably in her youth she had resembled her daughters, but now after four pregnancies and expecting another, coupled with her harsh daily routine, she seemed much older than her probable early thirties.
The father with his dark thick beard, and heavy build was so unlike the slender male Elves they knew that he seemed almost bestial. That, coupled with the primitive surroundings of the crude log cabin and the farmyard smells of pigs, chickens, and cows, gave the two Elven maidens a very different view of the world from what they were used to. It was an education they had never expected, and they found it as fascinating as anything they had yet discovered. Now they understood why their mother had sent them on so routine a mission. In the strange world outside the Aerie almost anything they encountered would be something of a challenge and they did their best to understand their woodland hosts.
During the meal Delendria managed the conversation, inquiring as best she could into the hard lives of the forest family. Asharia ate in silence, but attempted to appear interested, very aware that the eyes of the daughters never strayed from her face or that of her sister. Finally one of them got up the courage to speak.
“You are very beautiful,” the youngest daughter said. “Is it true that Elves use magic to keep themselves young and alive?”
“Magic?” Asharia asked, surprised. “No, Elves have no magic. We live long lives, but that is simply part of what we are.”
“But surely your miraculous beasts require great magic,” the girl protested. “And you seem so young. Not like the Elven warriors I imagined.”
Both girls felt somewhat uncomfortable. They did not need to be reminded that they were little older than the youngest of the woodland family’s daughters.
“Well,” Asharia replied. “Perhaps we are not so old. Elven women are not like those of Mankind. We mature late and seldom have children before the age of fifty. My sister and I are a long way from that; and as for the gryphons, although they are indeed marvelous, they have no magic.”
The girl, whose name was Esarda, seemed unconvinced. “But your weapons. Your bows. They are magical are they not? I never saw such shooting. Not even my father could loose an arrow so well.”
Neither Elf liked being reminded of the killing of the two robbers and Asharia attempted to change the subject. “Tell me of yourself, Esarda. When will you and your sister marry?”
It was a topic both girls were eager to discuss. The older girl, it turned out, was already betrothed to the son of a farmer a day’s walk away. Although barely fifteen, she was eagerly looking forward to her marriage to her seventeen-year-old prospective husband, as soon as he could hack his own small holding out of the forest. She hoped it would not be longer than one or two years.
Such a marriage seemed precipitous to Asharia and Delendria, but by their standards Men bred like rats. Neither of the woodland farmer’s daughters made the least effort to hide their desire to share a man’s bed as soon as possible, a desire that was mystifying to the two Elven maidens; who did not contemplate any sexual union before reaching their forties.
The eldest girl, Shadra, jumped up. “Let me show you my hope chest.” She dashed to the cabin and emerged a few seconds later dragging a crude pine box. She opened the leather-hinged lid and pulled out a homespun linen dress. “Me Da’ traded five wolf pelts for this. Me and me Ma sewed it and I did the embroidery.”
Beaming with pride, Shadra held up the crude garment. Neither Asharia nor Delendria would have considered wearing it even as protection against the weather, but they realized that the dress, with its intricate needlepoint embroidery was probably the woodland family’s finest possession and paid it proper homage.
“It’s beautiful work,” Delendria said, fingering the coarse material. “I especially like the roses.”
“Them was my work,” Shadra smiled, pleased by the reaction of the Elves. “Ma did most of the shaping.”
Touched by the girl’s obvious pleasure in showing off her simple treasures, Asharia and Delendria exclaimed over every item in the hope chest. No one noticed when Delendria took a gold coin from her belt and slipped it into the folds of the wedding dress.
“It is time,” she said, smiling. “We thank you for your hospitality, but now we must leave. We still have several hours of flying before we reach our first posting and we are expected.”
“Surely you will stay the night,” Shadra exclaimed. “It is late afternoon. There are only a few hours of daylight left.”
“Where we fly, daylight is extended,” Asharia explained. “For us many hours remain.”
“Please stay,” Esarda begged. “The robbers may return and my brothers are due back tomorrow.” The other members of the family said nothing, but it was clear from their faces that they echoed Esarda’s sentiments.
Delendria frowned. Having rescued the forest family it made no sense to simply abandon it to the band of brigands who might still be close by, and she suspected that the honour of having two Shebaria in their humble forest home would be something that the simple farmers would talk about for decades. She smiled. “We will be honoured to further accept your hospitality, but we must see to our gryphons first.”
The family accompanied the two maidens outside while they summoned their exotic steeds. It took a few minutes for the gryphons to respond to the Elves’ call and when they did, it was obvious that their hunt had been successful. “They will need grooming,” Asharia said, to Esarda and Shadra. “You may help if you wish.”
The two girls looked dubiously at the huge beaks of the bloodstained gryphons. “What do we do?” Esarda asked.
“We need just water,” Asharia answered. “Gryphons generally preen themselves, but there are a few places they have trouble reaching, and they do love being groomed.”
Esarda and Shadra fetched water in two wooden buckets and then watched, along with their parents, as the Elven maidens put together what looked like a combination coarse broom and rake and then used the tool to groom the feathers of each gryphon. To the surprise of the onlookers the two mythical beasts stretched like cats and made low moaning noises as their feathers were stroked. Dipping their brush-rakes into the buckets the two Elves stroked each feather until the gryphons’ golden bodies gleamed; then they went to work on the huge white wings. It was here that Esarda and Shadra joined in, hauling water and actually spelling the Elven maidens by taking a turn with the brush-rakes.
“We don’t do this every day,” puffed Asharia. “Gryphons are very clean, but they do enjoy a good grooming.”
The woodland family nodded their agreement, amazed at the docile behaviour of the two fierce beasts.
Having finished the grooming the Elves settled the gryphons. Having been groomed, and glutted with the game they had killed, the gryphons settled down willingly to sleep. Gryphons were simple in their habits. When they were not hunting or eating they preferred to sleep and were capable of remaining comatose for two hour out of every three. They willingly settled down in the forest clearing while their mistresses followed the peasant family back to their home.
The inside of the log home was as primitive as the two Elves had imagined it would be. The floor was of hard packed earth, but swept clean. In the centre of the room was a hearth and above it a hole in the ceiling for the smoke to escape. Fortunately, there was no fire due to the fact that it was high summer, but both Elves could imagine what it would be like on a winter’s day with smoke filling the room before it escaped through the smoke hole.
The cabin was sparsely furnished with just a crude table and a couple of rough wooden benches. Against one wall were several wooden chests and farm implements were stacked against one wall. A bow and quiver of arrows hung on a peg along with a few iron cooking utensils. Over against another wall was a bed that was large by Elven standards, but which both maidens could see would barely hold two the two parents. A ladder led to a loft where the other members of the household probably slept.
“My sons sleep above the barn when they are here,” the mother,
whose name was
“Ah, you must let us help you,” Asharia said.
“It is not for you to help the likes of me, your highnesses. This be peasant work. You’d best not soil your hands.”
“I insist,” Asharia replied. “You must let us repay your hospitality.”
The mother shrugged. “As you would have it, my lady. But you’re going to get dirty.”
“A little dirt never hurt anyone,” Asharia grinned. “Please show us what to do.”
“It was the mother’s turn to grin. “Follow me your ladyship.”
“Wonderful idea you had,” Delendria muttered as she scrubbed vigorously at the filth on her hands. “Please ask me next time before you volunteer our services.”
“Oh,” Asharia moaned. “My back aches. I never realized that hoeing turnips would be so hard.”
“At least you didn’t have to clean out the hen house. I’ll never get this smell out of my clothes or skin.”
“Supper!” a shrill female voice called. “Mum’s made something fine in your honour.”
“Thank you, Esarda,” Delendria answered. “We will be there directly.”
“I’m too tired to eat,” Asharia moaned as Esarda headed back toward the house.
“Poetic justice,” Delendria replied tartly. “Just think how well you’ll sleep tonight.” She flicked her hands to dry them and then strode toward the house, her sister following.
As it turned out there was a fine feast waiting for them. In their honour the father, whose name was Willum, had beheaded a couple of chickens. Along with a good selection of vegetables there was more than enough food. The two maidens ate until they were stuffed, even Asharia recovering her appetite when the aroma of roast chicken struck her nostrils. However, it was a very tired couple of Elves who forced themselves up the ladder into the loft.
Waiting for them were two straw-stuffed mattresses. “We put fresh straw into them,” Shadra said proudly.
By this time neither Elven maiden could have cared less about the quality of their beds. Exhausted, they thanked the girls for their consideration and threw themselves upon the mattresses without even bothering to properly undress. Within seconds they were asleep.
Morning came early. Apparently peasants didn’t wait until dawn, and Delendria and Asharia were awakened by the sounds of movement both inside and outside the house, and by the continual crowing of the family rooster. With a grunt Delendria sat up. She ached in muscles she had not known existed. A few feet away, Asharia’s groan showed that she too had a few reminders of her volunteer efforts.
With some effort both maidens forced themselves out of bed and down the
ladder. The hut was empty, but
outside
“Just right,” Esarda said. “One each.”
To the surprise of the Elven maidens they found that they were hungry, but
determined not to stay any longer with the peasant family, they went to the
gryphons while the mother and girls worked on the
breakfast. Ignoring their aching
muscles they draped the harness over their avian
steeds. Fortunately the gryphons
had feasted well enough the previous day to hold them until their reached
their first staging area. By
the time they were finished breakfast was ready and they ate a last meal
with the forest family. Willum
returned in as
The Elven maidens ate slowly, not wanting to insult their hosts, but in truth they were finding that parting from the peasant family was harder than they had imagined. Clearly the family they had helped regarded their presence as a great honour, and to Asharia’s and Delendria’s surprise they found that they had become quite fond of the peasants in the very short time they had known them.
The family gathered round to watch them leave. Impulsively and to their obvious joy, Asharia hugged each of the girls. More reserved, Delendria merely bowed in the Elven fashion, clasping her hands and bowing at the waist. “One day we will return,” she promised. “But now our mission awaits.” She climbed onto Fire and with a kick of her heels sent the gryphon into the air. Asharia followed on Sky and in a few minutes the tiny farm and its peasant inhabitants was just a small patch in the great forest. But as they climbed higher both maidens knew that every member of the peasant family was still watching them. Reluctantly they turned their steeds toward the distant mountains and the lands of the Dwarfs.
They had lost a little bit of time due to their little adventure, but both young warriors were exhilarated by their experience. It had given them a vision of a way of life that they had never experienced. It was one thing to know about the existence of peasants, but it was quite another to actually experience the harshness of their lives. It emphasized the fact that not everyone lived as they did. Both girls now realized that there was more to their mission than they had suspected.
They had also blooded themselves, although the skirmish with the forest outlaws had certainly not been much of a contest. However, it showed that they were capable of performing as Shebaria. They had made their first step toward full-fledged warrior status.
By now the gryphons had reached their optimum altitude. The exotic beasts did not so much fly as glide. When necessary they could move with incredible speed, but for long range flight they used the slow beat of their wings to gain elevation and then rode thermals to greater heights. They could stay aloft for hours, riding the air currents and conserving their strength. When they dove, however, their striking power could be devastating. Asharia could remember the time when she had seen a wild gryphon pick up an entire cow and carry it away seemingly without effort.
Below them a dark blue line wound its way through the forest. It was the River Arwen, and it was their guide to the Dwarven outpost they sought. By following the river they would find themselves within a few miles of their destination by the time they reached the mountains. It was easy flying. The sun was warm and they were able to relax as the gryphons moved them effortlessly forward. It was not until they reached the foothills that the Elven maidens had to bestir themselves.
The river route ended in a magnificent cascade as a thousand foot waterfall tumbled over a mountain cliff. It was the landmark the Elves had been waiting for and they swung the gyrphons at right angles to the mountains and flew south. Their timing could not have been much better; the sun was beginning to dip below the range as they spotted their goal.
The Dwarven outpost of Kharag signaled the end of the first stage of their journey. Stuck high on a mountainside it was connected to the rest of the world by a rude trail that switchbacked down the mountain to the valley below. It was built more for defence than easy access and said quite a bit about the suspicious Dwarven mind.
In typical Dwarven fashion Kharag was built like a fortress. It was approximately square, with four high walls bracketed by towers at each corner. The trail from below entered the fortress through a massive gate tower that commanded the road, making any assault from below suicidal at best. The gryphons, however, approached from above, heading for a wide terrace that extended into the fortress from the rear wall.
Delendria signaled to Asharia, indicating that they should swing around the
fortress in a slow wide circle. Her
sister raised her arm in agreement.
Dwarfs were notorious for their suspicious attitudes and although
the two
Shebaria
should have been expected neither wanted to be on the receiving end
of a hastily fired Dwarven crossbow bolt.
“Down,” Delendria said once she was certain that the tiny figures on the parapets and terrace had seen her and her sister. Fire raised his wings slightly and glided in toward the open space in the middle of the terrace. Asharia and Sky followed, swooping to a gentle landing beside her sister.
Delendria immediately slid from her mount, but kept hold of the reins as several stocky figures approached. Both maidens had seen only one a Dwarf before; the ambassador to the Aerie. As a result the sight of a dozen Dwarven warriors in full armour was a bit off-putting, but they stood their ground and waited to see what was about to transpire.
The figures moving toward them were a grim lot. Not a single smile creased even one of their heavily bearded faces; not that much of their faces could be seen in any case. Each of the Dwarven warriors was dressed from head to foot in chain-link armour, and their heads were encased in conical iron helmets with thick nose and cheek guards. As a result all that could be seen was the dark eyes and mouth of each dwarf. All of them were bearded; most of the beards extending to the middle of their barrel chests and worn in a variety of styles. Some were braided; others forked; and a few simply allowed to grow wild.
In height they stood about a head shorter than the two Elves. For the first time in their lives Delendria and Asharia felt tall, but the Dwarfs more than made up for their lack of height by their stocky build. Although not a single Dwarf matched either of the two maidens in height all of them probably weighed at least twice as much.
In addition to their armour each Dwarf was heavily armed. Over the shoulder of each protruded the haft of the Dwarf’s chosen weapon, the axe, and several of them carried loaded crossbows as well. The only exception to this was a Dwarf who carried what appeared to be a heavy ceremonial staff about five feet long. The fact that it could easily be used as a weapon was not lost on either of the Elves.
None of the Dwarfs said a word as they purposefully approached, but Delendria could see their eyes flick back and forth from each Elven maiden to the huge gryphons. As they advanced to within five feet Delendria stepped forward, her carefully rehearsed words of greeting springing to mind. “Greetings. I am Delendria Thebariasdottir and this is my sister, Asharia. We bring you greetings from the Aerie of the Red Ruby.”
She had chosen to speak to the Dwarf carrying the heavy staff. Assuming that he was probably someone of importance. It appeared that she had guessed right from his reaction.
“Ummph,” he grunted, looking at Delendria through narrowed eyes. “The Elves are sending us their children now. Well, so be it. I am Gron Hammerhand, Stonemaster of Kharag. You and your beasts are welcome.”
The Stonemaster’s greeting was unexpectedly friendly by what she knew of Dwarven standards. At least it sounded less hostile than Delendria had feared. Perhaps the fact that she had spoken in the Dwarven language had helped.
The Stonemaster eyed the gryphons. “I expect you will want to tend to your beasts. There is certainly no Dwarf who will do so. However, we do have a fresh-killed bullock to feed them. Will that suffice?”
“We are most grateful for Dwarven hospitality,” Delendria replied. “Thank you, Stonemaster.”
Gron grunted noncommittally. “I leave you to it then. When you are ready Hron will escort you to the hall.” He indicated a black-bearded dwarf standing behind him and then turned on his heel, taking his escort with him and leaving the two Elves staring after him.
Ignoring the remaining Dwarf Asharia steeped forward to join her sister. “Friendly bunch,” she commented. “You’d think we were transporting plague; not helping to safeguard one of their precious caravans.”
Delendria motioned with her eyes toward the dark-bearded Dwarf, indicating that her sister should try to be more circumspect, an action that was not missed by the glowering Dwarf.
To her relief, the Dwarf actually smiled. “Do not judge all Dwarfs by Gron. He fought in the last war against your race and his memory is long.”
“It would have to be,” Asharia blurted. “That was more than a hundred years ago.”
“Dwarfs do not forget,” Hron said. “Nor I expect do Elves.”
“It was long before our time,” Delendria said.
“And mine,” Hron said. “But I am still mindful of the fact that your people and mine did war upon one another for centuries. That is something that cannot be changed.”
Delendria feared that the conversation was becoming a debate and turned to Asharia. “Come. Let us attend to Sky and Fire. Then good Hron will show us to the hall.”
The Dwarf said no more and waited patently as the two maidens removed the harnesses from their gryphons. By the time they finished two of the Dwarfs that had left with Gron had returned dragging a cart with the freshly slaughtered carcass of a bullock upon it. The gryphons screamed in anticipation as they scented the blood. Although the Dwarfs showed no sign of fear, they stopped some twenty paces from Delendria and stood waiting.
“Leave the carcass there,” Delendria said. “You need approach no closer. We will leave Sky and Fire to feed.”
The two Dwarfs grunted their assent and moved away from the bullock as fast as their Dwarven dignity would allow. Hron looked dubiously at the two huge avians. “Will they remain?” he asked.
“They will not leave as long as we are here. We will tell them to wait.”
Raising her hand she shouted at Fire in Elvish, while Asharia spoke to Sky. The gryphons raised their feathered heads and shrieked in noisy assent. While the Dwarfs backed hastily away the huge beasts flapped their wings once, launching themselves onto the still dripping carcass of the bullock and began to feed.
No one who has never seen a gryphon feed ever forgets the sight. Asharia and Delendria were used to it, but the Dwarfs were not. As the sound of ripping flesh and the crunch of bones echoed across the terrace, the Dwarfs hastily moved toward the inside edge of the terrace followed by the two grinning Elves.
They quickly hid their smiles as they neared the edge of the terrace. A long stairway descended from it to a courtyard below. Wooden sheds of various sizes lined the wall of the fortress. Some, such as the stables were easy to identify. The others appeared to be storage sheds of various types, and one, of course, housed the smithy.
Hron followed the other two Dwarfs down the stairs and across the courtyard. He did not look back, evidently expecting the two Elves to follow him. They did so, traipsing across the courtyard past a number of gawking Dwarfs and up a wide flight of stairs to a massive wooden door set into the front of an impressive stone building. They did not enter through the door itself, however, instead entering through a smaller door set into the side of one of the main doors. Inside they found themselves standing in a grand hall, some one hundred feet wide and over two hundred long. Overhead the roof soared a good thirty feet supported on massive wooden beams set on top of huge stone pillars.
It was most impressive, although much more massive and less refined than the fine Elven stonework they were used to. By their standards Dwarven architecture seemed much more utilitarian and less artistic than the buildings of the Aerie. Still, it was an imposing piece of work and the two Elves stopped to admire it before following Hron deeper into the hall.
Seated along the sides at dozens of wooden tables were hundreds of Dwarfs. Heads turned as the Elven maidens passed, not all of them hostile. Mindful of Dwarven standards regarding dress, both Elves kept their flying cloaks laced up despite the fact that large hearths set at intervals into the walls provided more than enough heat to the room. The smell of Dwarfs and food filled the room, the latter reminding Asharia and Delendria that they had only snacked from their Elven rations as they flew and had not had a proper meal since the porridge served them by the peasant family.
Hron guided them toward the back of the hall where there were a number of tables set apart from the rest. Seated at these tables were Dwarven women. Asharia noted with surprise that the rumours about female Dwarfs having beards were clearly untrue. Although the women had the heavyset Dwarven build, most of them were quite pleasant looking, although by Elven standards none could be called beautiful.
Hron bowed to a woman seated at the head of the largest table. She was distinguished from the others by being more richly dressed and somewhat older than the others. As Asharia and Delendria approached he turned back to them. “May I present Ivora Hammerhand, first lady of Kharag.”
Asharia and Delendria bowed to the wife of the Stonemaster and stood waiting while Hron presented them. Then, finished his duty as escort, he excused himself and retired to the men’s side of the hall.
By Elven standards all of the twenty of so women seated near Ivora were very modestly dressed, each wearing loose gowns that covered them from neck to foot. Although Delendria was feeling quite warm due to the heat from the fireplaces she decided that it would be best not to remove her cloak. Even dressed the way they were she noticed that several of the Elven women were looking at their booted legs with curiosity, if not disapproval.
Ivora seemed not to notice, however, she stood and motioned with her arm toward two chairs that were close by her. “Sit here, children,” she said. “You must be tired and hungry after your journey.”
As Asharia and Delendria seated themselves, Ivora spoke to one of a number of Dwarven women who were circulating among the tables, serving food and drink. Immediately a trencher was placed before each Elf and metal goblet placed at her right hand. Slabs of meat and vegetables were piled on the trencher while the goblets were filled with a golden fluid.
It was far more food than either Elf could eat, but they tucked in as best they could, finding that they were quite ravenous and thus able to do justice to the meal. The golden fluid turned out to be quite good mead, which they drank sparingly, having no wish to lose control of their faculties.
While they ate they chatted politely with Ivora while the other Dwarfs leaned in to listen. It turned out that the Dwarven women were quite curious about the two elves, especially their warrior status.
“But surely,” Ivora insisted, “the real fighting is left up to your men. Two such delicate creatures could not possibly wield a weapon in battle.”
“Delicate?” Asharia responded, her voice rising slightly. Somehow she felt her Elven honour was at stake. Ignoring the warning pressure of her sister’s hand on her thigh she half rose from her seat. “I am not as frail as I appear, your ladyship. My sister and I killed four brigands on our way here.”
There was a sudden hush around the table as the Dwarven women considered this comment. Delendria rose to her feet. “I must apologize for my sister. Her outburst was most improper. She and I have had a long flight and are very tired. Perhaps you could direct us to our sleeping quarters.”
Mercifully Asharia held her tongue while Ivora diplomatically attempted to smooth over the reaction Asharia’s outburst had caused. “I am sure that our customs are most different,” she said. “I will have Denda show you where you can sleep.”
Ivora’s smooth reaction, however, could not hide the brief look of surprise that Asharia’s words had caused, nor disguise the shocked gasps from the other Dwarven women. “They must think us barbarians,” Delendria thought, but she kept her face impassive as one of the younger Dwarfs rose from her seat. Without a word she waited expectantly while Delendria and Asharia got to their feet. Silently the younger Dwarf led the two Elves from the hall. As it happened the way to their quarters was close to the table at which they had supped. That was a bit of a relief; neither Elf was looking forward to being paraded through the hall once again in front of the eyes of hundreds of suspicious and perhaps hostile Dwarfs.
Denda took them through another of the heavy iron-bound doors the Dwarfs seemed so fond of and led them down a hallway of dressed stone. It was featureless except for brackets set into the wall to hold smoking candles. Delendria could not help thinking that they might just as easily be heading for some grim dungeon rather than their sleeping quarters.
However, that gloomy thought proved to be unfounded. After passing a number of closed doors they came to one set at the end of the corridor. Denda paused at this door, made what was supposed to be a curtsy, jerked on the iron handle and pushed the door open.
The room beyond was much more pleasant than what either Elf had been expecting. Although plain and constructed of stone, it had a large window which overlooked the approach to the fortress and contained a large double bed, a table with two chairs, and a couple of cedar chests. Delendria nodded her approval. “Thank you, Denda,” she smiled. “This will do nicely.”
“Is there anything else, my lady?” Denda asked.
“A bath would be nice,” Delendria replied. “If that is not too much trouble.”
“I’ll see to it directly, my lady,” Denda said; and then with another curtsy she departed.
“Good thought,” Asharia mentioned as Denda disappeared. “I still stink from all that farm work.”
“Yes,” Delendria said. “As do I.” She gave Asharia a knowing look.
“I know, I know,” Asharia said, throwing up her hands as she plumped herself down on the bed. “I will try to watch my tongue more carefully no matter how ignorant the comments of our hosts. What did her ladyship think I wore chain mail and a sword for – idle decoration?”
“Yes, well we were not sent here to make them even more hostile. Apparently it will take more than just a hundred years for some Dwarfs to forget that they and the Elves were once enemies.” Delendria pulled off her cloak and hung it on one of a row of pegs near the window. “Mmpph,” she grunted. “It will be good to get out of this armour for an evening. If we hang all our clothes near the window they should air well.”
Asharia nodded her head in agreement and began to copy her sister. A few minutes later there was a knock at the door and when Delendria opened it two Dwarven maidens stood outside hefting a large oblong wooden tub. In the relatively cool air of the fortress the water steamed.
Delendria stepped aside as the two women entered. She noted that they carried the heavy tub easily in spite of their short stature and looked askance at her and Asharia. Delendria realized that by Dwarven standards she and her sister were very scantily clad, but she made no effort to cover herself. Instead she waited while the Dwarfs set the tub in the centre of the chamber and then with simple curtsies left.
“Phew,” Asharia said letting out a long breath. Every time I am near a Dwarf I feel like I am on display.”
“That will pass tomorrow. We will be flying too high for them to see us.”
“Yes, but we will still be forced to share their campfires.”
Delendria nodded. Their first adventure was turning out not to be quite the adventure she had hoped it would be. Changing the subject she took a coin from her belt. Looking first at Asharia and then at the tub she tossed the coin in the air. “Call it,” she said, as the coin spun. “Winner gets to bathe first.”
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