The Chosen, Kris Kramer [reading e books .TXT] 📗

The shaman smiled. “A pleasure, Erliga.” He pointed at the flower. “Take it; it will not melt for some time.”

Erliga plucked the flower with a hiss from the cold. She turned her back to the fire and them, and drew herself tight. Pjodarr leaned back and smiled at Tarac.

“Eons passed, and the nations of the world flourished under the watchful gods. Peace reigned. Mobin decided that they had learned great Fjur’s lessons well. Together, the gods built the Golden Table under the earth’s highest peak, the Great Mountain. They tasked the dwarves with protecting the land over the Golden Table until the end of all time. And there they sit, and there they sleep…until the Dragon of the Heavens comes to swallow the world.”

Gruesome stared into the fire. The night air grew colder with the shaman’s last words.

The Companions

Chapter 22

What had she gotten herself into now? Here she was, a young, relatively inexperienced woman, traipsing around in the dingy subterranean corridors of Teekwood Caverns with a man she’d just barely met. A man that she suspected might actually be crazy.

“Eilidh, have I told you about the time I saved two trackers from twenty murderous hulks?” Liam asked.

He’d insisted on walking ahead of Eilidh, leading her nowhere in particular as far as she could tell. Every now and then he would call back to her over his shoulder to recount some tale of his bravery and courage. With each entry into his verbal journey of achievements, Eilidh lost more and more respect for his credibility. She started to wonder if the trackers had in fact saved Liam in the fight that he’d now referenced for the third time.

“You told me about saving the trackers first from a group of eight, and then twelve hulks, Thorn,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

Why, oh, why had she agreed to his help? Well, because no one else was around and the trackers both had business elsewhere. Also, seeing that dark, shimmering form come out of that firbolg had left her a bit uneasy. What had the nuathreen called it? His darkness? Eilidh could see where the name came from. Just thinking about it sent shivers down her spine.

Liam continued to prattle on about the fight from thirty minutes ago as if it was a historic and well-documented moment of fame for him. All Eilidh focused on was trying to place his accent. He was obviously from the south of Andua, most likely a big city like Casuuld. In ancient times it was a Thandaran fortress, but like the rest of that great empire, the only reminder of the occupation was a ruined fort. She didn’t know much more about the place, because she’d never been farther south than Terlgow, but the stories of debauchery her brothers shared indicated the heathens there didn’t care much for Ghrian.

Eilidh prayed that Liam would run them into some more Anduain folk to join their cause. She didn’t think that she could handle much more of this man one-on-one. Also, the one tracker’s warning still resounded loudly in her head. Don’t let Liam get her killed. Perhaps easier said than done.

Ruaidhri spoke of great accomplishments, but Eilidh had seen him perform plenty of worthy feats to prove his valor. This Thorn just spoke and spoke and spoke. In all the stories told of fearless Thorns executing dangerous missions behind enemy lines, no one had ever mentioned they couldn’t just shut up about those same missions afterwards.

“Please help me survive this man, Ruaidhri,” she whispered quietly.

“What was that, Eilidh?” Liam called back.

How had he heard that?

“I was just muttering to myself, Thorn.”

And this title business really irked Eilidh. He called her by name, yet insisted that she refer to him as Thorn, as if to constantly remind her of his profession. She got it alright. Liam was a cocky bastard who needed constant affirmation from those around him. Eilidh may not have been the greatest warrior or the best healer, but she had enough going on between her ears to see insecurity staring her in the face.

And that poor firbolg. The trainee had fallen in combat and his oblivious trainer had just stood over him. What if the firbolg’s soul had actually passed on? What if Eilidh hadn’t come at that exact moment to rescue him? It had taken every ounce of her power to retrieve his receding soul. She’d never done anything like it before, reaching deep inside the wounds of an injured ally to convince their spirit not to flee, not yet. She’d healed her own injuries in the past and once or twice fixed up a moderate cut or bruise on Ruaidhri, but she had no experience with fatal wounds.

Well, now she certainly did. The ordeal had left her physically exhausted, but at the same time had energized her spiritually. She had saved someone’s life! How could her brothers remain unimpressed now? They’d never brought someone back from the brink of the deep abyss, she’d bet.

This Thorn definitely hadn’t. No, Liam wouldn’t have even deigned to carry his dead trainee back to the nearest rebirth stone. He would have done exactly what he did with the living Brian: pass him off to the trackers. Eilidh was sure that dragging Brian’s body back up to the surface to reunite it with its soul would be far beneath Liam’s deluded sense of grandeur and importance.

Even when she totally ignored his incessant storytelling, thoughts about him irritated the fire out of her. And the vain son of a bitch kept flexing and admiring his bare arms. She hadn’t seen many Thorns before, but the regular soldiers she’d run into always wore some kind of arm protection, at least on their forearms if nothing else. This man wore only a black, sleeveless bark-skin hauberk, with matching bark-skin leggings and leather boots. On his back hung an impossibly black cloak that attached around his neck with interlocking thorny vines made of silver. The contrast between his attire and his pale arms was striking, and his intricate tattoos would’ve been intriguing if not for his total lack of amiability.

As they walked down yet another unfamiliar corridor, Eilidh saw a trickle of water forcing its way out from between two large bricks in the wall to her left. She didn’t bother telling Mister Wonderful that she’d stopped to investigate. He would work it out soon enough. Or maybe he wouldn’t. She didn’t care at this point.

Yes, as she suspected, the water flowed down to the tunnel floor and then proceeded to carve a narrow canal in the same direction that Liam now walked. He was taking her deeper into the caverns, not up to the surface. Eilidh sat on her haunches, contemplating his actions. Either he thought he was heading towards the surface and was just incompetent, or he knew fine well that they were not heading to the surface and had an agenda of his own.

Eilidh looked up and down the tight corridor. She was alone with this man. Could he be luring her deep down to some secluded spot where he could do with her as he pleased? Eilidh had been around long enough to hear the terrible stories that circulated. Ruaidhri had explained to her in grave detail the consequences of falling into the hands of the Bergsbor or Calderans. She’d never heard of such atrocities before that. Did this Liam fellow think he could take advantage of a naive young woman?

Well if so, he’d chosen the wrong woman to ensnare in his web.

She stood and fell back into step behind the Thorn, who still babbled on endlessly, unaware that she’d ever stopped. Eilidh let the distance between them increase just a little. Thorns were renowned for their ability to charge with great speed into battle. If the need arose, she wanted time to brace herself. After all, Eilidh had already been attacked by one other Anduain today, so proceeding cautiously seemed prudent.

The tunnel walls in front of Liam appeared to flex slightly as the floor rumbled underfoot. Liam stopped and drew both of his blades, the metal glowing faintly red. His head darted back and forth, checking for incoming danger, his face a little confused, as if he expected such a tremor to be caused by stampeding hulks. But Eilidh had felt this before. This was no stampede.

“Watch out, Liam!” she yelled. “The ceiling’s coming down.”

Liam looked straight up and saw what Eilidh had noticed. With the corridor quaking more and more violently now, a deep crevasse etched its way across the ceiling above Liam’s head. As the first sections collapsed, Liam shot backwards towards the wall and launched himself off of it, flipping through the air. Eilidh looked on in disbelief as he completed at least four back-flips with arms outstretched, still clutching his shining blades.

He hit the ground behind Eilidh and executed a perfect landing. With his swords now up, facing Eilidh, and with his face displaying a creepy grin, Liam didn’t look particularly welcoming. She raised her shield in his direction and fumbled to release her blade from its sheath on her belt.

Liam approached Eilidh now, causing her to take a step back as her sword refused to cooperate. She started to panic as the dark images from Ruaidhri’s story filled her mind. A deep-seated fear gripped her and she gave up on the sword and held her shield with both hands, ready to strike at the Thorn with all her might. He stepped closer still, his eyes staring straight through Eilidh with bewildering detachment.

As Liam drew within a couple of feet of Eilidh, he sheathed his swords and continued on his predetermined path. She carefully stepped out of his way, still holding the shield up, not trusting the man at all. Liam didn’t even seem to notice her, or her fear of him.

What was going on here?

Now drenched with the salty sweat of fright, Eilidh watched Liam walk away, towards the cave-in. Now she could understand. Sort of.

The ceiling had given way to the tremor and formed a loose stairway into a dark space above. Apparently the brush with death and the idea of adventuring in a new area had captivated Liam to the point of scaring Eilidh half to death.

“What is wrong with you, Liam?” she demanded angrily.

All of her panic and fear and tension unraveled verbally as she lowered her shield. He paused and turned, looking confused.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

Eilidh stomped towards him and pulled out her blade, which now had suddenly decided to comply with her demands. To his credit, Liam didn’t even flinch when she held the point to his throat. Worse, he smiled.

“Alright, Eilidh, can you explain what is going on, please?”

“You’re the one with some explaining to do, Liam,” she said, emphasizing the use of his name instead of his title. “You scared me witless and then just walked away.”

Now the smile dropped and Liam looked incredibly concerned.

“Scared you? When? Just now? You were supposed to be highly impressed with my aerial acrobatics, not scared.”

Now it was Eilidh’s turn to be dumbfounded.

“No, you twit! Not the flips or whatever you did. Pulling your swords and walking towards me with a devilish look on your face scared me,” she explained while slowly withdrawing her sword from his neck.

“Devilish look, you say? Well, we Thorns do train in the use of many excellent facial expressions, but I didn’t realize I had a devilish look in my repertoire. Thank you for noticing,” he said, smiling again.

“This isn’t funny, Liam. I thought you were going to do something . . . horrible.”

Eilidh blushed at the word, but not nearly as much as Liam did. He turned his face away quickly, trying to hide his shame at catching her meaning.

Still not facing her, he said, “I don’t know what made you think of me as such a barbarian.”

Now Eilidh looked down at her feet, his insult making her feel worse and worse. A hand gently touched her face and lifted her eyes to his.

“I am a Thorn of Andua. I pledged a solemn oath to protect and defend all Anduain people. We’re a proud nation and we proudly stand on our integrity and principles. You have nothing to fear from me.”

Were her brothers not defenders of Andua also? Why had they never shown her such respect?

“I didn’t mean to offend you, but consider my situation, Liam. I don’t think erring on the side of caution was a mistake.”

A grand smile filled his whole face.

“Right you are, Eilidh. I appreciate your paranoia. ‘Kill