The Tale Of Amberley Bloodstar Ch 03

The Tale Of Amberley Bloodstar

Disclaimer:

This is a work of fantasy. I have occasionally appropriated items such as lyrics for songs (since I have no facility for writing such things myself) and all credit is due to the writers of said songs and lyrics. I'll probably just list any borrowings at the bottom of the story to save time. Several fantasy works and games have influenced this story and I've borrowed and blended concepts freely.

As always, anyone portrayed having sexual relations has met the human requirement of eighteen solar cycles. Constructive comments and reviews are welcome; flames will be snickered at and deleted. Enjoy!

Chapter III- The Terror Of Darkness

It is a strange thing, to wage a war. Stranger still to enter into one, having no particular idea what is happening. We may think we know, but until you are actually there and involved, it is all just a comforting illusion we tell ourselves, to feel safe and in control.

I found myself having to make this admission as I tramped through great tunnels, my neck starting to get sore from all the unseemly gawking I must have been doing. Everyone had heard of the Dwarf-Goblin wars, of course, because they'd been going on for centuries, if not millennia. Tales of great battles, oft fought underground, beneath the mountains, or even beneath the cities of Men. Fanciful, strange tales that people told one another in taverns, occasionally badgering nearby Dwarf travellers for confirmation of these statements.

And I could no longer blame Dwarves for being reticent in speaking about these matters. It had to be annoying and intrusive.

And here I was, a blithe bard of Men, always singing these tales to anyone who would listen. Perhaps it made more sense than ever, then, that they would ask me, a bard, to be the one who came along and chronicled these events, to set the record straight, if you will.

Beneath the throne room of Drozzir-Karak, the current seat of power for the Black Hills kingdom, we had set out on our great quest, to fight through the goblin and orc hordes, to the mighty Halls of Kirsumir. These fabled halls, long forgotten in the tales of Men, had once been the center of the kingdom, where the Black Hills kings had held court. But incursions by the Gruzz'nak tribes had driven the weakened Dwarves from their stronghold, leaving the kingdom a pale shadow of its former glory.

Now they were going to attempt to retake the halls, to reclaim their realm from their hereditary enemies. As I looked around at the Dwarves I accompanied, hundreds of them marching in grim columns of stout metal, it seemed somehow impossible to me that they might fail.

I thought back to how I had become involved in this unfolding, unknown drama- I had approached the seemingly innocuous Dwarven pedlar Rulim with a small bauble I had suspected to be so much more. It was indeed a rare and precious thyno-ar crystal, and I aspired to find a spellsinger to turn it into the enchanted strings for my aeolian harp. I would be the wonder of bards for a thousand leagues in every direction.

But even in Arristheon, great capital of the mighty kingdom of Dreagon, spellsingers were almost unheard of, only visiting from the distant Elven kingdoms occasionally. Rulim, however, offered an alternative to me. For the right price, a Dwarven runeweaver might be able to make those same strings.

The price? A steep one, admittedly. I was to accompany the Dwarven host in its quest to retake their ancestral halls from the enemy of their blood. And I was to chronicle these events, these feats and deeds of bravery, and sing my songs to the people of Arristheon upon my return. If I did not perish in the undertaking.

It was a magnificent offer, for if I lived, I would have those strings I desired, and my songs to the goddess would be glorious for all to hear. I accepted, and accompanied Rulim to the Black Hills kingdom, to join the forces of Thane Brungor, who was mustering his folk to lead them into battle.

We'd left the great halls earlier today, and as amazing as I had found what I'd seen so far in that Dwarven hold, sights awaited me that left me all but speechless. Down we travelled, beneath the throne room of Brungor, to a giant mustering hall, taller and wider than palaces I had been in. And though the vaulted ceilings were far overhead, I could see them, because of the roaring braziers and reflecting crystals that kept them aglow.

By the goddess, the doors...

Giant stone doors, which must have been older than Arristheon or Dreagon itself, stood now before me. They were carved with immense runes and symbols, so old that they were faded and beyond my recognition. Silvery metals were etched across the surface, glinting brightly in the endless torchlight. I'd watched in awe as the doors swung open silently, on mechanisms I could not readily comprehend. Beyond, there was a great blackness, and silence.

My companions seemed undeterred, and with a great call, the thane began the march forward, his famed axe in the air. Companies of heavily armoured Dwarves lurched forward, one after the other, torchlight glinting on their burnished armour. While Rulim marched near the front with the thane, he intimated to me that I was welcome to come and go as I pleased, talking to members of the host and asking questions they were prepared to answer.

And that's what I did. To my surprise, I found many of these normally reticent Dwarves willing to talk about themselves, their families, and their thoughts about the quest. What struck me most was that they seemed to expect to die- not because they thought the expedition was doomed, but the price they would pay, to recover those ancient, hallowed halls, would be steep indeed. Even if they succeeded, what would be left of the host? Would it be enough to hold the Kirsumir against whatever came next?

One young Dwarf, hardly a man in the counting of their people, with a beard that barely covered his face, was more talkative than the rest. We walked along through vast tunnels that were lit by endless torches. The walls were covered in ancient runes, glyphs and reliefs, telling the story of the Black Hills Kingdom.

"I've never had a sense of my place," Dalgrul admitted as he marched, looking around at the sights we passed. It wasn't his first time venturing down these leviathan tunnels, built by his ancestors in days of old, nor was this his first battle against the goblins and orcs, but it was to be the largest, certainly. "My family, they were smiths, but I have no real talent for it."

"It happens," I replied, walking beside him. "What about stone working, or mining? I admit, I don't know much about how you Dwarves of the kingdoms make your living, aside from the common gossip."

"I'm trying my hand at mining recently," he said, patting the haft of the war pick he was carrying on his stout shoulder. He was wearing chainmail all over, and a light steel helmet on his head. He had explained that the unit he was a part of was meant to be fast, to get around the enemy and attack from the flank, so heavy armour was not a consideration for them.

Granted, I don't know how one flanked in a cavern battle, but I was no great master of war in the deep earth, either. I let him continue.

"I haven't found my calling or my talent yet, and it bothers me," he sighed.

"Well, hopefully you're good at bashing in orc skulls with that pick of yours," I quipped, smiling.

He grinned, an unusual expression in a dwarf. "In my first battle, I took the heads of seven goblins, and three orcs. I plan to do ten times better on this outing!"

"I don't doubt you will, Dalgrul Orcspiker," I quipped, making him and the other young Dwarves around him laugh. My interactions with him had the effect of getting those around him to open up more, and I listened to them all intently, memorizing their names and important details. It was their deeds yet to come that counted, so I whispered them quietly into the charm around my neck for safe keeping. It had been a gift long ago...

***

Irsei, the capital of the Kingdom of Fuyondy, some years earlier...

I sat on my bed, with a blanket pulled around my naked body, and trying to look chastened, although I could not keep the smirk off my face. My mother, Rhalaena, paced back and forth in front of me, her aggravation obvious. My window was still open, the diaphanous curtains billowing in the gentle summer breeze.

"Amberley, how could you?!" she exclaimed, turning to look at me and fretting. "I... I know that to us it seems like we've been married to the Bloodstars for a long time, but... they see things differently than we do! What you were doing with Lyrei and Ayeson..."

"It's not like they're blood relations, mother," I replied, watching her continue to fret. "They were curious, because they'd never seen a human girl before, and I-"

"

Don't

try to tell me that you've never seen a naked Elf before, girl," she warned me, giving me a dire look. "I'm no fool, Amberley!"

"I would never presume to think so, mother," I said gracefully, although my smirk still exasperated her. "I don't see what the big deal is, since our little corner of the family is not the one marked to inter-"

"Enough," she sighed, not wanting to be reminded of the terms of our connubial bonds with the Bloodstars of En-Loryn. If I'd been born a generation earlier, it probably would have been me married off to these insufferable Elves. "Not just Elves, but siblings, girl... how in the name of our ancestors did you convince them to... to do that?"

I shrugged, making sure that my blanket remained in place over my bosom. "It took no convincing on my part, mother. They came into my room together, and I'm pretty certain that they were already-"

"I don't want to know!" she announced, cutting me off yet again. "What happens if the suzerain hears what you were doing with his grandchildren?!"

"I think Ayeson and Lyrei will have a lot more to answer for if he finds out that they were lovers at all, mother, not just that they were having a tryst with me."

My mother huffed and stomped over to the window, her lovely blonde hair curling in the gentle breeze. She looked out the window, frowning.

"Well, I don't see any bodies down below," she grunted as she cast her long gaze far below to the river and Nyr Dys lake beyond. "So I'm assuming they somehow survived the fall from your window. Honestly, girl, what were you thinking?"

I sighed and stood, wrapping the blanket around my body snugly. I was already as tall as my mother, and not yet come into the full bloom of my womanhood. "I don't understand your concern, mother. Since when are we of Furyondy so uptight about how we use our bodies?"

"Amberley, my beautiful and headstrong daughter, I wouldn't have blinked if I barged in her and found you in bed with the royal prince Pelleas and both of his sisters. What I am uptight about, as you put it, is the fact that if the Bloodstars discover that you were doing things with those two..."

"What of it?" I asked, shrugging again. "Wasn't the whole purpose of this alliance to strengthen relations between En-Loyrn and ourselves? Don't I already have a cousin who is half-elven?"

"A sanctioned union and child," my mother insisted. I wasn't used to her being this upset about such things, and it wasn't like she hadn't caught me in compromising situations before. I was as infamous for them as I was for my lovely voice. "Just because the Elves agreed to this union for the greater good doesn't mean they're happy about it, or that they still don't believe we mortals are inferior."

"The goddess seems to think otherwise, I wager," I quipped, smirking. One of the real problems that the suzerain had with our family was me, in fact- the elder race had always held themselves to be the fairest singers in all the world, and then I was born. Though I had not yet finished my training, even they had to grudgingly admit that my talent was beyond mortal, and rivalling their own. I was 'touched by the goddess,' as they claimed their best bards and troubadours were. I'd firmly held onto this mantle, never letting them forget that a higher power still than them had bestowed this gift upon me, and who were they to question that?

Mother sighed and sat down on my bed, now that I had vacated it. To be sure, she was no prude, since I knew she and my father had very healthy appetites and more than a few lovers. But she seemed so upset about my indiscretion with our Elven in-laws.

"Amberley, if you simply

must

have these trysts with members of the suzerain's family, could you at least be more discreet about it?"

"I thought I was being, until you barged into my bedchambers unannounced and caused my brother and sister Elven playthings to throw themselves out of my window in a panic," I pointed out. "It never occurred to me that I wasn't being; I even had my little charm working, and you came right through the door anyway."

I indicated a small table by my door, where a tiny brass frog was sitting. My mother knew the charm well, since she had given it to me on my birthday some years earlier. When its magic was called upon, it simply created a small aura that damped noise, and subtly averted people's attention. It was no great magical feat, just a little prosaic trick to provide a wanton girl some privacy.

"It was supposed to keep people just moving by my door without a second thought," I sighed, looking at the little trinket forlornly. "It must be worn out."

"Probably not, my love," my mother said, smiling and holding out her hand to me. I took it and she pulled me down to sit next to her. I kept my blanket wrapped around myself as a courtesy, although I knew my mother wouldn't have cared. We had seen each other naked countless times over the years, after all. "But I was not merely passing by; I had actually come to talk to you."

"Timing is everything," I muttered, looking at my window that my seemingly illicit lovers had thrown themselves out of. I had been so close, too. "What did you come to speak to me about?"

She smiled and stroked my cheek. "Your father and I are so proud of you. You're the most talented bard our family has ever been blessed with, and this is no small compliment. Even our Elven relatives must grudgingly admit it. You have already outstripped all your mentors in skill and depth of understanding. Your abilities have pleased the goddess and will become... magical."

I nodded, listening intently. I knew what she meant. A bard who was truly talented, touched and gifted by the goddess of song, the mistress of celebration, their talents transcended the mundane. Not only could they sing, recite poetry, act and dance, but they could enchant their audience, weaving the fabric of magic into their music. They could inspire the hopeless, demoralize the brave, calm the wrathful, and affect so many other outcomes, all with the power of their voice and their music.

I was one of these lucky few, the blessed bards of the goddess. It was not well-known, not yet, because I was still young. But those who had heard me sing, or speak on behalf of a cause, they knew that the goddess had smiled on me at the moment of my birth, and called me one of her own.

"And while you receive little gifts and trinkets from people all the time, I thought this one would do you great service in time," mom continued, reaching down into a pouch on her hip. From it, she drew out a small pendant, and put it in my hands, then looked at me expectantly.

I held it up and gazed at it, letting it twist slowly on its gleaming chain. It was a small copper or bronze disc, maybe orichalcum, and it was etched with a maze-like pattern in its surface. I felt my eyes being drawn into the cunning pattern, feeling like I was part of a permanent part of the now endless maze, as if I could be kept there.

I blinked and looked away, putting it down and returning my attention to my mother. She smiled knowingly.

"An old charm of our family, one that has sat for generations in our vaults," she explained, looking down and tracing her fingertip over the grooves of the pattern. "I know it doesn't look like much, but it is very helpful to the right kind of bard."

"What kind of bard?" I asked.

"Epic balladeers, of course," she said, smiling. "It is a rare bard who can remember all of the old tales, those long, drawn-out stories of our forefathers, and rarer still are the ones who might compose such works these days. And what is the greatest trait of these bards of old?"

I smiled back. "A flawless memory."

"Aye," she agreed, nodding. "And this little bauble, this charm, it will remember things for you, whisper what you have let it hear back to you, so that you may never forget when the time comes to compose and perform these poems as only you can, my daughter. It is not a gift given lightly, for not everyone deserves such a treasure. It would make a mediocre bard adequate, but in the possession of one who knows how to use it, it will be so very much more."

I closed my eyes and put the amulet around my neck, knowing that one day, it would be my best friend. One day, it would help me achieve something other bards could only dream of.

***

And those days began today.

My new friends spoke to me, telling me things they rarely told outsiders, because they were likely to die, and wanted to be remembered in the tongues of Men, as well as their own kindred. I listened to them intently, asking questions and assuring them that regardless of the outcome, they would be remembered.

My amulet felt warm against my chest.

The great halls we trooped through, it turned out, were still held by the people of the Black Hills. Hours passed, and I was weary of foot, though I gave no indication of this. Sooner or later they would rest, and so would I. We pressed on, and I made sure to observe my surroundings, mumbling to myself so that I might never forget these sights, perhaps never before seen by the eyes of Men.

I had to admit, I'd lost my sense of time, and when Rulim came back to find me and explain that we were stopping, I was glad for it. I felt like we'd marched all day. I was not encouraged when my little bald companion said we had been.

"Chin up, girl," he said almost cheerfully as I sagged down against a wall, noticing that the lights of torches and braziers along the walls had grown subtly fewer during our march, and the halls were much dimmer. "At least you can still stand up straight."

I gave him a nonplussed look. "Am I to infer that the tunnels we will be travelling by might require me to stoop?"

"Some, no doubt," he admitted, shrugging as he sat down beside me and pulled out his pipe. "You are tall for a human woman, so taller than my own people, certainly. These tunnels were not built with your kind in mind. On the plus side, we are generally broader than you, so the tunnels are at least wide enough."

He'd lit his pipe and taken a few puffs from it before offering to me. I politely refused, since smoking was anathema to a singer like myself. "How long are we stopping for?" I queried.

"Several hours, at the very least," he replied thoughtfully, taking a moment to blow out a great cloud of smoke that curled away into the darkness above. Even this far below the earth, I could still feel air moving, for which I was thankful. "We are near now to the edges of the deeps that my people still hold in strength. Beyond these halls, we will be entering areas that have been contested for some time. The thane has sent scouts ahead, to see what we might face when we resume our march. There is time enough for us all to eat and rest."

Up ahead, I could hear deep, rumbling laughter, and wheezing chortles as my comrades settled in and made merry. It was then that I heard drums and singing.