Orthíad
The two groups faced one another in silence for a handful of seconds that seemed to stretch into an eternity. The faces of the dwarves were grim but thoughtful, for they had plainly heard much of what Gandalf had said and were thinking it over, now that they had the chance.
The dwarf that had spoken had a black beard, obscuring half of his face, and sweeping on the floor unbraided. His eyes were sleepy, but cautious nonetheless, and waking up each second.
At last, he said, "So, friends of the Varden, you are, eh? Can you prove that to me?"
"We came from Beartooth Lake," said Angela. "Or what's become of it, at least. That should, at least, prove we didn't come from outside the Varden's range."
"That's not saying much," said the dwarf. "Urgals could've done that. We heard the reports."
"Oh, the Urgals that drowned in the giant flood?" asked Angela sweetly. "Or the ones hiding in the tunnels that lead to Orthíad? Or do you mean the ones carrying Ajihad and the Twins to Orthíad?"
That caught the dwarves off guard, and they hesitated, lowering their bows briefly. "Ajihad— can you prove that?" asked another dwarf, pulling further back. Gandalf eyed the bow; it wasn't wood. Gandalf wondered how long they could hold back the strings.
"No, I do not think so," said Gandalf. "Not in any reasonable measure of time, not if we want to save Ajihad. But have you received no messages from Tronjheim, then?"
"Nothing yet," said the first dwarf. "It may be that we'll receive some message in days to come. You can wait until then."
"Spare me the idiocy of dwarves!" cried Angela suddenly. "By Morgothal's fiery balls, that might take weeks! The Twins will have Ajihad in Galbatorix's dungeons by then, you mushroom-addled, rock-eating imbeciles!"
The outrage of the dwarves was sudden, and each turned their bow towards the witch. Gandalf prepared to let off a sudden blast of light and heat, should the dwarves let the witch's swearing get to their hearts. But they stopped and frowned. One of them lowered his bow and rubbed his eyes.
"Is it…" he began, trailing off. He peered closer. "Are you… well, bless my beard! Angela! Angela the Witch!"
At that the others dropped their bows and laughed a deep, hearty laugh, until each one was breathless and lying on the stairs. Gandalf frowned for a moment at this sudden change but lowered his hands and breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that there had been a sudden change for the better, at least.
"Angela!" laughed the first dwarf, getting up and going down to hug the herbalist. "I should've known you'd be here. 'Where there is smoke, there is Angela,' we say. And here you are, at the end of one the most nerve-racking events in recent history!"
The room grew sombre for a moment. Then the dwarf shook his head and bid the other dwarves send the horses to the stable and light the lamps. "Let us have light – good light for a good occasion," said the dwarf. They huddled over a table. "For this is indeed a better occasion than we'd expected. I can't believe we almost shot you! How'd that be for an end to your adventures?"
"Oh, it would soon be avenged, if it happened, " said Angela. "Thrakulz, am I right? Good grief, I didn't even recognise you without the armour."
Thrakulz chuckled. "Aye. But I assume you mean old grey beard here would avenge you."
"Indeed, and no doubt carry on my mantle as an interfering busybody," said Angela, smirking. Gandalf raised an eyebrow. She continued; her voice was strangely prideful. "This is Gandalf, and he is come from lands neither dwarf nor elf nor man nor dragon nor even Grey Folk have heard of. He has come from a land that is similar and wholly different to Alagaësia. There, dwarves named him Tharkûn."
Now the gathered dwarves looked at Gandalf in amazement. "Tonight is full of strange surprises. If Angela says it, I am wont to believe her, for she speaks of many strange things, too bizarre to believe at first; but the stranger her words, the truer they seem to be. But never in all our lives have we heard of such a thing."
"And for good reason," Gandalf said, suddenly. "For it is not important, not now at least. There are more pressing affairs. A storm is gathering, Thrakulz, and swiftly. The attack on Tronjheim was but the first drops of rain before the downpour. We must try and save Ajihad before he is brought before Galbatorix, or we may not weather this storm."
Another dwarf spoke; Gorthfar he named himself. His voice was rough and unused to the language. "Angela, you said the Twin's had took him. They then have betrayed us all?"
Angela nodded sadly. "I'm afraid so. For so long we were suspicious of the Twins, yet even I never even suspected them of this treachery. I knew- we all knew they only cared for power, but to serve Galbatorix?"
"You cannot be wholly blamed," Gandalf said. "Desperate need may oft ignore wise council or turn blind an eye; and they helped the Varden, no doubt. They carried out their orders, in their own fashion, and served the Varden, even as they served their true lord. Nevertheless, it is pointless now to throw blame around. They have captured Ajihad, and a friend of mine; Angela, Solembum, and I are after them; if luck is on our side, we will catch them at Orthíad.
"But now, Thrakulz, we must ask if you will let us sleep here tonight," said Gandalf. "I intend to leave ere dawn tomorrow, if Angela and Solembum would oblige, but it would be nice to sleep in a safe place."
"But of course!" exclaimed the dwarf. "Stay, rest, and tomorrow we will fill your packs and your water skins. There is food for your steeds."
"Thank you," said Gandalf, bowing his head. Then another dwarf, Feldgor, spoke, saying, "I have a question: do either of you know what has happened to bear-tooth river? A few days ago, I was on the balcony, having a smoke, when suddenly the whole valley was filled up, and the river too! and it spilt into the rest of the zurokozi rak gor, right up to the large entrance to the mountains! What happened?"
Gandalf and Angela shared a look. "I was travelling with the Dragon Rider, Eragon, and the Dragon Saphira," said the wizard. "We were attacked by a party of Kull, and I summoned down the ice and snow from Farthen Dûr."
The dwarves stared in amazement at the old man, and disbelief was in their eyes. They looked at Angela, who shrugged.
"That is a considerable display," said Thrakulz; his voice was soft and nearly reverent. "Even the elves would hesitate before attempting such a feat, and even they may not survive. How did you manage it?"
Gandalf hesitated, unsure how to answer. At last, he smiled and said, "A wizard never reveals his secrets."
The dwarves grumbled but did not press the matter any further, and the youngest dwarf Hljod asked if they could give them two of the Feldûnost. "They'll get ya' there twice as quick as ye ponies," he said.
"True as that may be, we'll still need our horses after Orthíad," said Angela, casting a disdainful eye over Hljod. "And I know a little about Feldûnost: they won't come back here without a dwarf guiding them, or a trail of hay."
Hljod turned away at that, and Thrakulz and Gandalf agreed that it was time they slept.
The next day Gandalf awoke to a dwarf calling his name and Angela's. The time, according to Feldgor, was four o'clock in the morning, as the race of men counts. Angela grumbled as they filled their packs with meat, mushrooms, and a few other roots. She continued grumbling as they filled the water skins, and as they saddled the horses, and only stopped when Gandalf threatened to cast a spell that would stick her tongue to the roof of her mouth.
When they had a short breakfast and were ready to leave, Gandalf thanked the dwarves for their hospitality, and said to them, "The battle for Farthen Dûr may have been nerve-racking, but it was not the end. Sharpen your blades and polish your armour! Prepare to march to war."
He sprang onto Tornac and sped down the path. Angela and Solembum followed after him.
For several hours they wandered down the stony path, and by his request, Angela taught him about magic. She spoke of its nature, or what elvish scholars knew of its nature, and how it was bound to the Ancient Language, aeons ago, by the Grey Folk. She told him how, for most beings, it was difficult to immerse themselves in the magical energies, and impossible for all but a handful of humans; for elves, of course, it was usually quite simple and natural.
She explained that casting a spell used as much of your own energy as doing the task ordinarily. She warned him of how a spell, once cast, would continue to consume your energy until the task was completed or you were dead. You could, of course, remember to word your spell so that you controlled when a task was complete, but as Angela put it, "Most spellcasters outside of Du Weldenvarden aren't elves or lawyers."
She told him that a master spellcaster and a beginner had two things in common: they both use fewer words in their spell. "A master of arcane arts understands how things are always, however vaguely, connected. A common example is to use the word for water, adurna, and create a gem. A master spellweaver knows how water and gems are connected, perhaps in one respect, perhaps in many, and uses that connection to create the gem."
By the second stop the city of Orthíad was already in view. In the distance, they saw towers, many broken, but a few withstood the test of time; the gems glinted in the sunlight. Much of the city was still hidden by the mountains, but they would likely come to it by the end of the next march.
Solembum came beside Gandalf, in the form of a young boy once more.
"They built Orthíad after the great exodus from the Hadarac desert," he said. "Millennia ago, when the Beor Mountains were smaller, the desert was a lush and fertile land. There the dwarves lived; after a considerable period of time, the land grew hot and unbearable for the dwarves, and their nine chieftains, Hljod, Gunnar, Fræg, Eikinskjaldi, Draupnir, Andvari, Fjalar, Móðsognir and Mjöðvitnir led their people out, and to the Beor Mountains. They built Orthíad, and there they stayed for several centuries.
"It was beautiful, and even its ruins are wonderous to look upon; even in their beginnings, in the Hadarac desert, they were skilled with their hands, building great tunnels in the ground. They delved deep into the earth and became the masters of metal and rock and gem. They tamed the Feldûnost, and they spread into other parts of the mountains, shaping the mountains to their desires. In the latter days Tronjheim was built, begun by the pride of the dwarves to match Orthíad.
"But their skills and love were their dooms, for many dragons lived in the mountains also, and they came across the dwarves, and attacked them. They fought constantly, never to the point of war like the elves, but it soon became clear that Orthíad was no longer a safe place. So, they went deeper into the mountains and expanded upon those territories that they had already made. It was in those days that Tronjheim became the city it is now – a refuge in times of crisis."
Then, as suddenly as he had begun, Solembum fell silent, save to say that he was going to scout the lands around them. He transformed into a cat once more and vanished into the shadows, leaving Gandalf and Angela perplexed.
"I often wonder how much he knows," Angela said. "He'll sometimes tell me, at the drop of a hat, of the history of say, the elves, when they first landed on the shores – the clothes they wore, the ships they built, and so forth. Things even I hadn't heard of. And then he'll turn around and wonder what in sanity's name a coin was for."
The two chuckled and set about preparing the camp.
After a few minutes, they sat around a fire, heating some of their food. Gandalf reluctantly agreed with Angela that no-one was spying on them, nor knew of their mission; at least, no-one that would give their mission away.
Solembum reported that they were alone, save for a roaming mountain bear a while away. "It should leave us alone," he said. "Nevertheless, we must be on our guard."
Angela then gave Gandalf a rock and instructed him to search his mind for the barrier to magic. He closed his eyes and searched for the barrier; it proved elusive, and Gandalf sat in silence for ten minutes ere he found it, in the back of his mind so to speak. The barrier itself was thin, and Gandalf broke through it easily enough.
But it was like diving into a river and swimming against the current. The moment Gandalf broke into the magical energies, he was flung out again. He opened his eyes with a gasp. Angela studied him with a calculating look, and Solembum lay by her side, one eye pried open. Gandalf closed his eyes again, and dived back in.
Knowing what to expect made it easier. That is, he wasn't flung out. His voice was deep, suffused with power and authority when he spoke the words Angela had given to him: "Stenr rïsa."
The stone shot ten feet into the air from Gandalf's hand, nearly knocking his hat off! Almost at once, Gandalf was pushed out, and the stone fell back down.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Gandalf looked towards Angela. She had a wry smile and was the source of a few more claps.
"Bravo," she said. "Bravo. A little overzealous, but very impressive. A little practice to control it, and you should master the subject."
There was no more time for practice, however. They finished their small meal and packed up and rode steadily on towards Orthíad. Angela told Gandalf several words in the Ancient Language.
Orthíad was a massive city, a testament to the dwarves' skill. The broken towers and domes stretched for several miles, carved into the mountainsides, winding between valleys. Gold, silver, adamant, gems of every colour, all these and more adorned the roofs of the buildings. It was magnificent to behold. It was also too big for them to search.
"Now what?" wondered Angela. "Do we assume they've left, or that they're still here? Do we search for them first?"
"Now," said Gandalf, prompting Tornac forward, "We wait, and we think."
"Or better yet," said Solembum from a rock. "We find cover, and then think. That is what I shall do, at least." He leapt from his rock and weaved through the buildings.
Frowning, Gandalf looked up. Dark clouds were beginning to gather. He'd missed that, distracted as he was. He swore silently at his distraction and followed the werecat to a large building – a lookout, by all appearances. There was a lump of metal at the top, likely the remains of a trumpet or horn that was melted by dragon fire. They left their horses to graze since they could not enter, but Gandalf commanded them to be very, very careful.
The trio found a bench at the top of the tower; it was made of marble, and encircled nearly the entire room, leaving just enough for Gandalf to squeeze through. The roof was tall enough that he didn't have to lower his staff, but the room overall was cramped. Understandable, but still annoying. There was a small fireplace in the middle, and the large windows let in a growing breeze. The tower walls were wide, and Gandalf guessed that, in the event of a dragon attack, the width of the tower walls might provide some insulation against fire.
The fireplace was overgrown with weeds, so Gandalf briefly wondered if he should light a fire. But caution stayed his hands.
"So, what do you think?" asked Angela. "Did they stay, or did they leave? Considering they'd probably have gone on Kull-back through the tunnels, they would have arrived yesterday."
Gandalf bowed his head in thought. It all depended on a number of things: were Murtagh and Ajihad properly subdued, did they expect to be followed, were they arrogant enough to stay and torture their prisoners? Had they some means of communication with Galbatorix, or some other of the king's servants?
"How long would it take for one of the Twins to break the barriers of Murtagh's mind?" he asked.
"Probably no more than half an hour," answered Angela almost immediately. "He had some strong barriers, but the Twins are competent, and love breaking into minds. Same for Ajihad."
"Could they communicate with the king or his servants from Orthíad?"
Angela tapped her chin. "No," she said, cautiously. "I don't think they could, even if they joined their powers. They aren't that strong."
"Then they are not nearby," said Gandalf. "They would not, I think, expect any followers, not for another few days. But they wouldn't risk it either, unless my grasp of their character is wrong; also, it is human nature to try and stay as far away from danger as possible. Well, for most, at least. Therefore, they would have to be, at the very least, on the furthest edge of the city. To that north-western valley, most likely. And even more likely further beyond."
They sat in silence for a while after. Gandalf looked to the distant valley, barely visible behind the many towers, hoping for some small glimpse of the Twins or their captives. It was a vain hope.
The evening was drawing near, and the clouds released their rain in a soft patter. Gandalf thought there was a quiet peace in ruins, a feeling that things were still, and finished. A morbid peace, but a quiet peace, nonetheless.
"We should try to get to the other side of the city before the moon reaches its zenith," said Gandalf. "Or, rather, get as close to the other side as possible. It would be unwise to battle the Twins at night, if only for the risk it poses to Murtagh and Ajihad, but we must try and get near them."
Angela had a strange look on her face. "Well, the Twins are more likely to run than fight. They remember what you did to them, and they know what happens if they challenge me. Besides, in a duel between wizards, and witches, the mind is the first target; I suppose I should have told you earlier, but now you know.
"When two magicians engage in a duel, knowingly, at least, they first attack the mind," explained Angela. "If you can break into their mind, just a little bit, you can find out their secrets, their wards, and more importantly, the weaknesses in their wards."
"I see," said Gandalf. "I still think we should not challenge them at night, though. It is always preferable to do these things at day when things are clearest. Besides, we do not know that they really have gone as far as we think they have, or even in that direction; they may have taken the northern valley. But come, the moon is rising."
"Hang on," said Angela, a shrewd look on her face. "How do you know the moon's rising? And how will you know when it's reached its peak?"
"This world moves no faster or slower than my own," said Gandalf. "I can keep the time quite well; a wizard must arrive precisely when he means to, after all."
"You can just sense that, can you?"
Gandalf raised an eyebrow. "There weren't always clouds above me, Angela."
The witch smiled and hopped up. Gandalf found himself thinking, not for the first time, that Angela's mood could be quite unpredictable, when she felt like it.
They went back down the stairs, found their steeds, and continued on through the ruins. They had no light, for the clouds hid the stars and the moon, and Gandalf would not risk any from his staff. Slowly, they pressed on, careful not to let their horses injure themselves. Solembum walked in front of them, warning them of any stones or pits.
They travelled silently; Gandalf was still, and looked to Angela like an ancient stone statue, just waiting to be cracked open to reveal the sun within. The going was cold and wet, and Angela would have preferred some spell to keep them warm, but Gandalf appeared to have fallen into some trance or another and did not answer Angela – only his eyes betrayed any sign of life or thought. When at last Gandalf stirred and suggested they halt, the rain was beginning to stop, which Angela thought was a cruel irony.
They found shelter in a large, broken old house; they left the horses in an adjacent building. A large family would have lived there. Angela, for some reason alien to Gandalf, set about investigating the room. The old wizard stepped carefully up the stairs. One side was exposed to the elements, and on the other side was a silhouette, surrounded by soot; there were no bones. Gandalf closed his eyes and bowed his head.
There was a balcony; Gandalf eased himself onto it, sitting cross-legged. The floor was wet, but the roof too low for even him to stand comfortably. Orthíad was built in a time when the dwarves, most likely, did not feel some need to show off. Gandalf guessed that the mix of dragons and elves gave the dwarves something of a complex in their later years.
The clouds were gone now, and the old wizard looked up. The stars were shining, red, blue, yellow, more precious than all the jewellery of elves or dwarves. More numerous, too, knew Gandalf.
And young. Gandalf recognised the patterns of the stars, saw the subtle differences that only the Ainur, or a very old or learned elf, would recognise. Lord Elrond had once shown him the two different star charts that had been made, since, to an elvish eye, the difference would be simply too great to ignore, were the stars not already their greatest love and study. The difference was slight, very, very slight, but there. Here, the difference was more profound. Still slight, to most eyes perhaps invisible; but Gandalf's eyes, though not elvish, were still quite acute.
Angela and Solembum arrived a few minutes later. An air of unease was about them. Gandalf guessed that they uncovered something, something that aroused their suspicion, and so asked them.
"I think there's some sort of animal here," she said. "A large hole can be found in the floor in what used to be the kitchen, like a burrow. Solembum smelled something off; he's investigating it now."
"How large an animal?" asked Gandalf.
"Oh, maybe so wide, and so tall," said Angela, holding her arms about a quarter of a metre apart, and then a metre. "Unless something smaller took refuge after the original owner died. Let's hope that's the case."
"Unless some nest of stinging bugs have taken up refuge there," countered Gandalf. "Small does not always mean weaker." He gave her a meaningful look.
Angela smiled. "No indeed. That reminds me about the tale of a mad rabbit I once had the misfortune of meeting. A thing to remember about mad rabbits, in this new world Gandalf: they are the bane of magicians."
"I shall keep that in mind, should I ever meet them," said Gandalf, a ghost of a smile on his lips.
A yowl and then a crash broke through the silence. Gandalf and Angela shot up like arrows, dashing through the narrow door and down the winding stairs. A bright light shone from Gandalf's staff, thrust out before him. At the bottom of the stairs, Solembum was battling a large, hideous creature. Catlike it was, but much larger, larger than the werecat, and with mottled and patchy grey fur. Claws like daggers slashed at Solembum.
"Solembum!" cried Angela. She reached into her sleeves and in a single, swift motion let fly two daggers. They struck the creature with considerable force, burying themselves in its pelt. They fell off a second later, the tips barely bloodied.
Gandalf sprang forth, Glamdring glittering in his hand. He stabbed the beast, but too early; Glamdring bit deeper, but not deep enough. But now Solembum had a moments reprieve, and the creature was focused on Gandalf. It snarled and lunged towards Gandalf, fast as lightning; Gandalf stabbed at it, but it knocked the blade aside and snapped at Gandalf.
Gandalf jumped back and struck its head with his staff. There was a resounding crack! and the creature backed away, circling the back of the room. It tensed, eyeing each ancient wanderer in turn. Angela positioned herself in front of Solembum, a poniard in hand.
The beast loosed a deafening roar and pounced at Angela! She stepped to the side and stabbed the poniard into the creature's eye! It roared and wailed and slashed at Angela; she jumped back, back against the wall.
Now it turned to Solembum just as the werecat let out a hiss and pounced on it. The werecat was thrown off, and the beast pounced once more, its victory at hand.
There was a sudden flash like lightning, and a crack of thunder, and the creature fell to the right of Solembum, dead. Its fur was singed; a thin trail of smoke drifted up lazily from its body.
Angela blinked a moment, then ran to where Solembum was staggering to his feet. She waited a moment, and then checked his wounds. She hurried out; Gandalf guessed she had a few supplies in her satchel.
Seeing that Angela would take care of Solembum, Gandalf decided to inspect the dead creature. There was something wrong with it, some taint upon it; almost like a veil was cast over it. Gandalf knelt down, examining the creature. Something evil had been here indeed. A powerful evil, full of hate for the ordinary way of things, full of anger. An old evil. Gandalf felt his hands grow chill at the touch of the creature.
Angela returned a moment later with three bottles of ointment and some dressing fabric. She sat the bottles down before Solembum and knelt, tearing some fabric, and dabbing it with some ointment, then pressing it into each of Solembum's wounds. She was about to bind Solembum's wounds, but the werecat growled, so she turned her attention to the dead beast.
"It's a Frejthdagh," she said, her voice only slightly hoarse. "Not officially one of the Big Five of the Beor mountains, but they are native to these mountains, as far as records show. The elvish word is näkymäkissa: invisible cat. They're not usually this aggressive. I can understand it attacking, Solembum did invade its home, but once it realised we were a serious threat, it should've turned tail and ran. Something is very wrong here; it's making my teeth feel fuzzy."
Gandalf frowned but let the comment slide. What were they to do now? If there was something evil here, should they not seek it out first and destroy it? The Varden would pass near this land, and they would have enough troubles in their exodus without evil spirits haunting them, turning them against one another, darkening their dreams.
But could he afford to search? Could Murtagh and Ajihad? Should he alert Elrond? What was more immediately important?
"There was, or still is, some spirit of evil at work here, Angela," said Gandalf. "Something… perhaps a shade? I cannot say."
"If there's a shade here, in Orthíad, then we ought to hurry," said Angela. "But I don't think so; shades are, thankfully, rare. Their creation is very difficult, even by those that know what they're doing, and the risks outweigh the benefits for all but the most desperate or insane. But you think that it might be something else, don't you?"
Gandalf nodded. "There is something here. It is almost recognisable. Like a bad memory, long since put away and forgotten, now reawakened by a familiar smell." Gandalf gave Angela his staff and searched through the fur of the Frejthdagh with both hands. "There is something, I am sure; órenya quete nin, as the elves say in Middle-Earth. My heart tells me – there is something, something…"
He trailed off; taking back his staff he shone the light at a spot where the neck and the breast meet. There were four marks; ugly, round scars that were still raw.
Gandalf felt his blood run cold. After all these years, they still existed. He thought they were hunted into extinction. But evil things always manage to survive, even if just barely. But could it be something else? A creature from Alagaësia, perhaps? But it was too familiar for Gandalf to hope.
"Angela," he said, his voice laden with hopeless anticipation, "Are there vampires in Alagaësia?"
Thank you all for your unending patience, I hope it's been worth the wait.
So, the plot thickens. Yes, we've had good guys from Middle-Earth, now get ready for some bad guys from Middle-Earth. But who else has arrived? Stay tuned to find out! Same batplace, same batfic!
Hopefully that business with the dwarves wasn't too anticlimactic or anything, but the idea that the dwarves would recognise Angela by her insults and blasphemy was simply too good for me to pass up.
As always, please leave a review. All comments and constructive criticisms are welcome here!