The Sins of the Father
Chapter Eleven
Obsidian
Isarn and his party rode in silence, the wind the only accompaniment to their solitary journey into the western mountains. The loss of Dergarn only days before weighed heavily on their hearts. The man had led his people honorably, training two generations of warriors, guiding them into an era of peace. Filling his shoes, Isarn knew, would be very, very difficult.
For now, however, Isarn could not allow himself to grieve. Rather, he forced himself to focus solely on the task at hand. Reaching the base of the mountain range, he raised his hand, halting his party.
"Our journey into the mountains will take us two days by horse," Isarn said. "If we are fortunate, we should arrive at the brann wielders' fortress by evening the day after tomorrow."
One of his companions, Erseth, frowned. "How do you know the location of their fortress? None of our people have seen this place in centuries. What if they are no longer living there?"
Isarn nodded. "I, too, have entertained the same notion. However, Dergarn had in his possession several manuscripts, some hundreds of years old, providing precise directions to the fortress. Furthermore, the brann wielders have their pride, much as we do. They would not voluntarily abandon their ancient stronghold. As it is well-secluded within the mountains, it seems improbable that they would have relocated."
Erseth was still not convinced. "Assuming their fortress is still inhabited, what do you plan on saying to them to persuade them to join with us? How do you know they won't simply kill us on sight?"
Isarn paused, carefully weighing his words. "I intend on telling them the truth. That many in Arendelle have chosen to hasten our destruction. That it is only a matter of time before they decide to do the same to those of the fire-bearing race. That only by standing as one do our races have hope of repelling our attackers."
Isarn placed his hand on Erseth's shoulder. "I am not saying this will be easy by any means, brother. However, I have to try. I cannot allow everything our fathers—everything that Dergarn—worked so hard for slip away from us just when we are on the verge of finding true peace in this world." He turned to the entire company. "We cannot allow our wives and children to be slaughtered by the animals in Arendelle who despise us. Our brethren deserve our finest effort. To do any less would be to doom our race to extinction."
All within the party nodded in agreement, save Erseth. He looked directly at Isarn. "I am still not convinced this is the best way to achieve these ends. However," he said, looking around at his companions, "I am also willing to subjugate my thoughts to those of our leader. If brother Isarn believes this is the best course of action, I will stand by him."
Isarn embraced Erseth, holding him tightly. "Thank you, brother," he whispered. "I swear to you, I will not fail our people."
"I hope not," Erseth replied, his brow creased with worry. "I hope you will not."
The party traveled without a word, allowing the hours to pass in silence. They dared not make any more sound than necessary. They were all too aware that they were intruders in an unwelcome land, that any unnecessary conversation would only draw unwanted attention to them. Frequently, they paused, glancing about, certain they were being followed. However, no matter how quickly they looked about, they were never able to see anyone trailing them.
On the morning of the second day, they paused at a small stream, allowing their horses to rest and drink much-needed water. The ice bærers rested their bodies, but their minds were constantly vigilant, just as Dergarn had trained them.
Isarn stood alone, meditating in silent contemplation. I must not fail, he told himself. Too much is riding on this. I must be successful! Breathing deeply, he allowed the tension in his body to be carried away with the coldness deep within him, replacing it with a sense of deep calm and serenity.
"Isarn!" The leader was jolted from his meditation by a loud cry. Instinctively, he rushed toward the source of the cry, bracing himself for the worst.
"What is it?" he cried. "What is wrong?"
"Nothing, sir," the man said. "I was just—"
Anger swelled within Isarn. "You fool!" he whispered, his voice projecting his wrath despite his quiet dynamic. "Are you trying to get us all killed? What if one of their sentries is on patrol? They'll know we are here from miles away!"
"I . . . I'm sorry," the man stammered. "I just found this, and I—"
Isarn brushed the man aside, moving forward to look at what had been discovered. His eyes darkened as he looked upon the sight. "Erseth!" he called, making sure his voice was not loud enough to draw unwanted attention.
Erseth and the rest of the party approached. "What is it?" he asked. "What did you find?"
Isarn turned to Erseth. "You have the gift of tongues, yes?"
Erseth nodded. "Yes, it is true."
"Then, would you kindly employ your talent and read this for us?"
Isarn gestured to a large rock, covered in moss over the course of the centuries. However, on its face, still legible after all these years, were inscriptions in the ancient writing of the brann wielders. Erseth approached it, studying it carefully. Finally, he spoke.
"It says . . . It says: Thou that wouldst enter our holy domain, hearken! The fire burns brightly into the night. Touch not the flame, lest ye perish with the chaff. If thou be true, thou hast naught to fear. If thou be of ill will, turn back now, for, verily, death awaits those who cometh with unclean lips and hearts."
Erseth turned to Isarn. "It is clearly a warning to those who harbor ill feelings toward the brann wielders." He paused. "Sir, perhaps we should heed its warning ourselves?"
Isarn shook his head. "We cannot do that. We have come too far to turn back now."
"But sir," Erseth protested, "clearly the fire bearers are watching us! There is no telling when we could be ambushed! If we leave now, they may yet spare our lives."
"I have no doubt you are correct," Isarn said. "But consider that the engraving on this rock is at least five hundred years old. Just because it has a warning on it now does not mean that it still holds true. Besides, turning back now will not get us anywhere. We would still have a day's journey back down the mountain. That is more than ample time for us to be attacked and killed, if that truly is their desire."
Isarn looked about the party. "Any man who wishes to leave now may do so and retain his honor. I will not harbor any ill will toward him. This is a dangerous task we face. If you are unwilling to continue, I understand."
The men looked at each other, then back at Isarn. None of them moved to disperse.
Isarn sighed. "So, we are in agreement? We press onward?"
"Ay," the men said. "Ay!"
"Then, let us be off," Isarn said. "We are wasting precious daylight."
The small band of ice bærers pressed onward, their path now becoming more treacherous. They were now deep within the mountain range, having traveled farther than men of foreign races had in centuries. The once-wide trail was now narrow and dangerous. It was becoming more and more difficult for their horses to retain their footing. Several times, disaster nearly struck as the nervous animals made misstep after misstep. They were saved from death only by the quick reflexes of their masters, who hastily corrected any mistakes made by their beasts of burden.
Finally, when they thought they could go no further, Erseth cried out, "Look!"
Isarn and the men rode forward, their jaws dropping in astonishment. Less than a thousand yards before them stood a towering fortress of darkest obsidian. Its walls shone in the evening sun, casting the purple rays of sunset about the mountains. Towering high above the walls was an enormous palace. Its towers glistened; its parapets sparkled. The craftsmanship was remarkable. The structure did not look manmade at all. Rather, it was as if the fortress had been formed from the volcanic activity of earlier centuries, liquid magma swirling and congealing to form rock that shone like glass.
Isarn turned to his men. "I want a basic scouting pattern at ten yard intervals. No sound. No contact. I need to know how many sentries, their defenses, everything you can obtain. Remember, gentlemen," he stressed, "absolute silence."
The men bowed before Isarn before dispersing, moving cautiously toward their scouting locations. Isarn and Erseth remained behind, absorbing the terrifying beauty that stood ahead.
"This is . . . This is incredible!" Erseth whispered. He turned to Isarn. "You were right all along! You found their fortress!"
"I will be much more comfortable," Isarn replied, "when we know exactly what we are dealing with. Until we know for certain, we must assume that they are hostile and will not hesitate to kill us if given the opportunity."
Isarn and Erseth looked ahead at their scouts, who at that moment were slowly, cautiously, advancing toward the fortress. Before long, they had passed beyond Isarn and Erseth's range of vision. The two men stood in silence, hardly daring to breathe, lest they be discovered.
Minutes passed. More minutes. Still more. After twenty minutes—hours to Isarn—the leader of the ice bearers began to grow concerned.
"Shouldn't they have returned by now?" Erseth asked. "You told them simply to scout, right? Not to engage?"
"Of course I didn't tell them to engage!" Isarn cried. "I merely want information. I have no intention of beginning a war with these people."
Erseth looked about. "Then . . . where are our men? They should be back by now!"
As if answering Erseth's question, a loud explosion rang across the mountains at that moment. Isarn and Erseth stiffened, their eyes looking about for the source of the commotion. In the distance, they heard screams, cries of anger, the sound of footsteps running frantically across the stone.
Isarn's men were upon him in a matter of moments. "What happened?" Isarn asked. "What the hell is going on? What did you do?!"
"We need to get out of here, sir!" cried one of the men. "They've spotted us! They know we're here!"
"What?!" Isarn roared. "How? I told you to stay in formation! What happened?!"
Two of the men bowed their heads. "We got too close to the fortress. We thought we could sneak just another peak at their defenses. Two of their sentries spotted us, launched some kind of weapon at us. We just barely managed to escape."
Isarn's mind was spinning. What do I do? What do I do?! Breathing deeply, he began issuing orders. "We have lost the element of surprise. We retreat now, back to our camp from earlier today. We hide there for a few hours. Then, at dawn, we approach again waving the flag of truce. With any luck, they will give us a chance to explain ourselves."
"Why wait until tomorrow?" A voice rang out over the party, startling them, forcing them to look about frantically. They saw nothing.
"Who are you?" Erseth cried. "Show yourself!"
Smiling confidently, a young man stepped from behind a large rock pile. Showing no sign of fear, he walked up to Isarn.
"That wasn't very intelligent of you, coming all the way up here like this," he said. "One might get the wrong impression of you."
Isarn smiled, forcing himself to be courteous. "Do you know who we are?" he asked. "How long have you been following us?"
"Since you first started up the mountain," the young man replied. He stared at Isarn, studying him. "So, this is what an ice bærer looks like. I've heard the stories, of course. We all have, but to actually see one in front of me . . ."
Isarn walked toward the young man, hands above his head. "We come seeking an audience with your monarch. We would be eternally grateful if you could lead us to them. We mean your people no harm. Despite our differences over the years, the situation has changed to the point where an alliance between our races could be mutually beneficial."
The young man nodded, but still stared at Isarn uncertainly. "How do I know you speak the truth? How do I know you won't attack us the minute I bring you to the fortress gates?"
Isarn bowed before him. "You have my word. On my honor, I swear to you that we come under a banner of truce. Please. Grant us an audience with your monarch."
The young man thought for a moment, looking back and forth, as if arguing with himself. Finally, he spoke.
"I will do as you ask. I will lead you to our Empress. She will decide your fate." He moved forward, beckoning Isarn and his men to follow. Remembering something, he spun around. "I hope for your sake you speak the truth. The last group of men who lied to her when they were captured three years ago was sentenced to death for their treachery. The last of them just now finally died today."
Isarn and Erseth shared a look. What have I gotten my men into? Isarn thought as they slowly began to follow the young man toward wherever he might be leading them.
AN: Things just keep getting more and more interesting for Isarn. Hopefully, their audience with the Empress goes well. More to come!
