The Chronicles of Lumineia: Book 02 - The Gathering (12 page)

“I have
already sent word to the king. He will be expecting you.” Then he hesitated for
a moment. “Just you,” he added, his eyes flicking to the rest of their party.

Siarra frowned
but nodded. “I request your leave to bring Liriana Alasse Tel’Runya, princess
of Azertorn, and Maemi Sri’Lanya as my advisors.”

The dwarf
hesitated, glancing between Liri and Mae, but agreed. Indicating the dwarf at
his side, he said, “This is Faxon, he will take your companions. The three of
you, follow me.”

“Thank you . .
.” Liri prompted.

“Onix,” the dwarf
replied, “High Captain of the southern defenses and first stratum of the
engineering guild.”

“Thank you, Captain,
for you hospitality,” Liri said, and the dwarf nodded curtly. With a sweep of
his hand he gestured for the elves to follow him. Without waiting for a
response the black-bearded dwarf turned towards a guarded tunnel in the western
cliff.

Taryn watched
his sister and friends disappear into the dark recess before turning to Faxon. Just
then a flash of lightning crackled across the sky, followed by a thunderclap.
On cue, the heavens opened as great drops splattered the gravel courtyard. Faxon
ushered them into a different tunnel, and Taryn shook the water from his cloak.
The smell of rain and wet stone struck him, reminding him of storms on Sri
Rosen, where he'd been raised. It was a poignant reminder of better times.

“So where are
we staying tonight?” Trin asked, speaking loud over the rain as he removed his
cloak.

The guard
snorted and grinned. “I thought we’d invite you to a little fun and games, with
some wagering to keep things interesting.”

“I don’t know
if—” Taryn began but Trin leapt passed him.

“You’re on.” he
said and the dwarf’s grin widened. Beckoning to another guard to take the
horses, he led them up tunnel. It didn't take long for Taryn to be lost in a
maze of corridors, stairs, and wooden doors. Metal striking metal echoed from
every direction, and Taryn listened in wonder to the hum of life within the
mountain.

After several
more minutes, Faxon strolled through a high archway into a large dining hall.
Dwarves dressed in armor or blackened leather aprons sat on benches eating or
drinking from large foaming mugs. At the back of the room, a long bar stood in
front of massive barrels from which other dwarves were filling drinks.

“Faxon!” someone
yelled from the right side of the room, and their guide turned towards the
sound.

Arriving at a
table with several other red-haired and bearded dwarves, Faxon said, “These are
me clan mates, Fignus, Bodor, Fesrac, and Gadlin.”

Each grunted or
grinned at the sight of Taryn, Jack, and Trin. “Welcome, boys, to our party,”
Gadlin said and raised his mug. Draining it, he only spilled a little onto his
smith’s apron. Then he pointed at Taryn’s red hair. “You look like you got some
dwarf in you, lad, but we all know that ain’t possible—what with those little
pointed ears showing your elf side.”

Offended, Taryn
was about to interrupt their loud laughter to tell them the truth when Jack put
a hand on his shoulder. Surprised, he looked at Jack and saw a knowing smirk on
his lips. “Don’t tell them,” Jack whispered. “Let’s have some fun with 'em
first.” Unsure of how to respond, Taryn reluctantly allowed Jack to take the
lead. Clasping his hands, the thief said, “So, what’s the game for the
evening?”

Bodor, dressed
in light armor and wearing an axe on his back, stabbed a finger at Jack. “So
you be thinkin’ you’re joinin’, laddy?”

Jack spread
his hands wide and grinned. “That is why you brought us here, isn’t it? To see
if you could lighten our pockets?”

Fignus, the only
one who didn’t join in the ensuing laughter, said, “You brought a smart one
this time, Faxon.”

Their guide
grinned and pulled some chairs to the table. “It’s time for some fun then.”

“What’s the
game then,” Trin said, sitting down and pounding the table with a fist.
"I'm ready."

Gadlin laughed
again, “It’s a drinkin game, but I don’t know if a human
boy
can stand
up to it . . .”

Trin snorted.
“Bring on the drink.”

All five of
the dwarves laughed and Fesrac stood to get more ale. A short, double sided
battle-axe shifted on his back as he strolled away. Not a minute later he
returned, hefting a large barrel on his shoulder.

Adding three
mugs to the table he said, “Fill yur glasses, but don’t drink until we explain
the rules.”

Trin reached
for the tap and began filling mugs as Faxon leaned forward. “The game is
simple,” he said. “One of us makes a bet if we think we can drink the next
glass without passing out—or throwing up. Then we circle the table matching it
or dropping out. The last one standing gets it all.”

Jack grinned
and slapped two copper on the table. “Let’s go then. The dust from the road begs
to be washed away.”

The dwarves
burst into rough laughter and watched him down the mug without batting an eye. Trin
went next, dropping the coins and draining his glass. Taryn watched him, but
had a difficult time getting his mind off what Jack was planning. He guessed
these dwarves had been doing this for a while, and would certainly be the
victors.

He also had
the nagging thought that this was delaying their mission. For some reason it
felt wrong to be drinking when the time was set to expire on so many lives.
Clenching his teeth, he tried to reason that what Siarra was doing was also
important, and she would likely be speaking with the Dwarven clan leaders for
some time. He glanced at Jack and caught a smug expression, so he did his best
to let it go. Seeing it was his turn, he dropped the coins on the table and took
a long pull of the surprisingly mellow drink. At least he could learn more
about his father's people, and nothing got a dwarf to talk like a full mug.

Three hours
and two barrels later, Taryn wasn't the only one having a hard time. Of the
dwarves, only Fignus, who the others said was an engineer and never drank, and
Fesrac, the soldier, had voluntarily dropped out. Faxon, Bodor, and Gadlin
still cheered every time Jack or Taryn dropped coins on the table and emptied a
mug.

Taryn shook
his head  to clear it and dropped five silver to finish the round that Jack had
begun. Emptying his glass amidst praise from his companions, he waited for it
to be filled again. Not for the first time he doubted if this was a good idea.
A glance at Trin, slumped and snoring on the table, only made him doubt it
more.

To make
matters worse, the dwarves had raised the stakes in the last few rounds, some
even slapping down a few gold coins. Taryn discreetly checked his money bag and
realized he was beginning to run out. His frustration mounting, he turned to
Jack to find him still somewhat sober and laughing as Bodor tossed out an
astonishing three gold coins. Then the dwarf threw back his glass like it was
nothing more than water.

Taryn was
about to protest the rising stakes, but Jack elbowed him and flashed him a sly
grin. Reluctantly he finished his turn, and then participated in another round.
Through the fog of drink, he caught the dwarves casting uncertain glances
between each other. Like he'd been waiting for their response, Jack finished
his glass to end the round and said, “Boys, I think we nee' a differen' game.”

Faxon leaned
forward. “Are you derpping out?” he asked, unable to hide his eagerness.

Jack yawned
and swayed, grabbing the table to right himself. “Not at all, but me think we
should make things a little more interestin'.”

Bodor laughed
and belched. “I have ne’er seen a pair of 'umans last this long,” he slurred.
“But I am up for anythin' intrestin'.”

Jack hiccupped
and said, “How about you throw some'ing special in the pot, and we will add some'ing
of our own. Then yur can present any challenge you like, and me friend here—”
He clapped a hand onto Taryn’s shoulder, making him start and stand up
straighter, “Will beat yur challenge.”

“Are you mad!”
Taryn hissed, but Fignus had already agreed to his terms.

“Give us a
moment to figure out the challenge, then we will talk about the wager,” the
engineer said, his expression shrewd.

As soon as the
five dwarves had stepped away, Taryn grabbed Jack’s arm. “What in the name of
Skorn do you think you are doing?”

Jack returned
his gaze without flinching and shrugged. “You aren’t too drunk, are you?”

Taryn shook
his head, confused. “Not too much, but enough to impair my senses. What does
that have to do with anything?”

The thief
smirked. “The drink has been watered down to make their victims last more
rounds. I’m actually surprised Trin didn’t last longer.” He chuckled. “They
think we should be unconscious, and have no idea you have dwarven blood.
Whatever task they give you will be well within your abilities.”

Taryn frowned,
noticing for the first time that Jack seemed completely at ease—and sober.
“Wait, why aren’t you having a hard time? And when you did you stop slurring?”

Jack’s snorted
like Taryn should know better. “I haven’t drunk anything.”

Before Taryn
could respond the dwarves returned to the table. “So what’s your challenge?”
Taryn demanded. He'd thought Jack was his friend, but now he felt betrayed into
helping the thief get more money. And how had he not drunk anything? Was it
magic again? Or something else? How many tricks did the thief have? The entire situation
left him feeling trapped.

Faxon managed
to wipe the smug look of his face before he said, “We thought we'd take it easy
on you because you’ve drunk so much.”

The dwarves
too seemed to have lost their difficulties in speech, causing Taryn to growl
under his breath. Did everyone have such tricks? He felt manipulated, making
him feel a rush of anger.

Fignus nodded,
his eyes glinting. “We want you to catch a mountain goat.”

Jack blanched
beside Taryn. “Have you lost your minds? You can’t catch a mountain goat. No
one can climb the cliffs to where they live!”

Fesrac
shrugged. “Oh, we do it all the time. Are you saying a dwarf can do what a
human can’t?”

Despite the
dwarf’s claim, Taryn got the feeling that catching a mountain goat did not
happen often, but Jack seemed to fall for the challenge.

“Humans can do
anything a dwarf can do!” Jack said hotly, but Taryn heard the note of
falseness in his voice. Few would have noticed the inflection, but this time
Taryn saw through him. Jack was just putting on a show, with Taryn as the
victim.

Despite the thief's
bravado, he added, “But it won't be easy for my friend here, so whatever you
wager had better be good.”

Faxon pointed
at the not-so-small pile of coins. “We’ll double the pot.”

Jack scratched
his head before he responded, “I think that will do. What do you say, Taryn?”

Taryn frowned
between the eager dwarves and Jack’s confident expression. He wasn’t pleased in
how things had developed, and he wished they were anywhere else.
At least it
will get me out of this drinking game.
Feeling cornered, he agreed with an
explosive sigh.

Faxon laughed
and drained his mug one last time. “I will lead you to the highest exit from
the fortress. It will take you closest to the goats.” He winked slyly. “But not
too close.

Taryn stood
and followed the dwarf away, throwing one last look at Jack’s smug expression
before it slipped from view. As their eyes made contact, he did his best to
convey every bit of anger he felt, but it didn't seem to faze the thief.

Several
minutes later, he stood before an open door, feeling the chill wind sting his
face.

“There you
go,” Faxon said brightly. “When you give up, come back to this door and tap on
this metal pipe.” He pointed to a bar hanging from the ceiling. “Someone will
come within a minute or two and lead you back to us.”

"Fine,"
Taryn said and stepped through the door and into the night air. Despite his
annoyance at Jack, the cool wind on his face felt wonderful after the hot
tavern. The chill brought a moment of renewed clarity, and a fleeting image
that made him smile. Why not forget the goat and make Jack foot the bill? He
chewed on the idea for a while, enjoying both the view and the thought of
teaching the man a lesson.

In the end, he
couldn't bring himself to do it. He sighed and let the image go with only a
little regret. There was no way he could let a friend down, even one such as
Jack. Frowning to himself, he set off along the trail, and guided by the bright
moon, began looking for signs of a goat.

Two hours—and
one goat later—Taryn sat down at the table amidst hearty cheers from many of
the dwarves in the room.

“All right,
Taryn,” Fignus said. “How’d you do it?”

“I saw a small
herd on top of the cliff next to the frozen waterfall—”

“But that’s
nearly five miles away!” Bodor exclaimed in astonishment. “And a thousand feet
up!”

Taryn shrugged
and continued, “It wasn’t easy to spot them standing in the patch of snow, but
once I had, I just scaled the wall behind them and dropped on one of them from
above.”

Faxon began
chuckling, and it grew into a deep belly laugh which his clan brothers matched,
even Fignus. “I can’t believe you did it. Dwarves rarely go after goats,” Faxon
said through his laughter. “We are strong enough to climb the cliff, but not
fast enough to catch one!”

Jack and Taryn
joined in their laughter, until Bodor calmed down enough to ask, “What’s your
secret, boy? We thought we were taking advantage of you.”

His question stole
their levity as the dwarves looked at Taryn, but it was Jack who drew their
gaze. His expression smug, he said, “He’s part elf . . .
and
dwarf.”