Disclaimer: I do not own Record of Lodoss War, Ashram, Pirotess, Groder, etc. Although I wish I did. Sigh
Additional Disclaimer: AND the stuff about dragons was shamelessly taken from Dr. Ernest Drake's: Dragonolgy Edited by Dugald A. Steer. I know, it's a hilarious book, but I felt I needed to use its otherwise useless and rather... funny (because it's so tongue-in-cheek) information.
Chapter Two
Admittance
"I will give you land," a voice snickered, and Ashram froze. His battered body and quivering muscles felt a chill in the humid air.
"What?" Ashram rasped. He ignored Pirotess who was grasping at his shoulders; he could barely feel them now anyway.
"I will give you land," the voice repeated.
"You will? You will!" Ashram cried. His newfound relief quickly disappeared and was replaced with suspicion. "What do you want?" a chuckle ran through Ashram's ears, but no one else seemed to notice it.
"Only a minor sacrifice on your part… your body," the voice stated. Ashram's eyes widened.
"What?"
"Your body. It's not much to ask, when you consider what I'm offering. I will allow your people entrance to the land of the Gods! One life is not all too much to ask," the voice explained. Ashram attempted to swallow, but his mouth and throat were bone-dry.
"Lord Ashram, Lord Ashram!" Pirotess cried as he stared vacantly at the wall, speaking to no one in particular.
"Yes – yes, you're right. I will. You can take my body. Just… let me save them… please…" for the first time in his life, Ashram begged.
"As you wish, Lord Ashram!" the voice boomed and the walls began to sink. People around him screeched and darted about as the receding walls created waves that rocked the ships.
"Lord Ashram!" he finally realized Pirotess was shaking him, and he tore his gaze from the wall. Her amber eyes stared at him silently as they roved over him with concern.
"Oh the wall! There's land!" came the cries and both Ashram and Pirotess turned their attention back to the turbulent waters in front of them. Just as the voice had promised, a pristine beach greeted them, and green mountains heralded lush valleys in the distance. The boats floated right up to the beach until they ran aground, and people began jumping over the railings to reach the shore. However, most waited for the smaller boats to be lowered.
Ashram was one of the latter. Hobb brought Ashram's armor and the Soul Crusher up from below decks, and with Pirotess' help, Ashram donned on the heavy armor once more. He almost melted right then and there, underneath the weight of his armor once more, but he held fast to the railing. He waited until most everyone else was on the shore before he eased himself over the railing and cautiously clamored down the rope ladder. The small rowboat shook when he dropped into it, and the Meadow Sprite, Marr, clutched the side of the boat. As Ashram settled into the back, he nodded to the sailors, and they pushed away from the dreary ship they had inhabited for so long.
When they reached the shore, Marr leapt out of the boat and took a handful of the sand and kissed it. Hobb was a little more reserved in giving thanks for reaching solid ground; he said a small prayer to Myrii. Ashram said nothing as his boots splashed in the crystal clear water and he left large footprints in the sparkling sand. His eyes scanned the lands, the mountaintops shone like gems, and lakes and rivers glittered like jewels among the lush foliage.
"Where are we?" someone asked.
"Lord Ashram…" Pirotess murmured. Ashram straightened as the wind blew black his hair and his cape.
"We have been granted the rights to this land by the gods," Ashram proclaimed. "Pirotess," Ashram called without turning to her.
"Yes, sire?"
"You Dark Elves are some of our fastest scouts. I want you to take a small group and scout the area, search for fresh water. Water is our greatest priority right now," Ashram ordered and Pirotess bowed.
"Yes, sire," she said and disappeared towards the other ships. Ashram turned to the people around him; most of those on his ship were soldiers.
"Now, I know you are weak, I know you are tired, and I know you are thirsty, but first things first: we must assist the others," he stated and pointed towards the ships approaching. "We are the first to set foot on this sacred land, but there are many others behind us. Your wives, your children, your parents, they are all behind us, and require our aide. I want groups to get back on the row boats," a collective groan from the men sounded here. "I said, I want groups to get back on the row boats! To help lead the other ships to safe harbor and unload the passengers," Ashram roared. "Those who stay on shore will help unload the boats and set up shelters at the beach's tree line," he said. Ashram began towards the boats. "I will be assisting the ships," he added, and the men that had been sullenly climbing in the boats brightened. He heaved himself, armor and all, into a boat with several other men; he recognized one of them as having served under him in the Royal Guard. He looked around at the men watching him expectantly as they shoved off from the shore. He chewed on his lip a bit before addressing them. "No need to worry: the worst is behind us."
It was not long before they came across the first wave of ragged ships. They had not yet pulled in their oars, but they were moving slowly. Ashram stood, unsheathed the Demon Sword, and held it up. It glinted menacingly in the sunlight, and there was an impregnated pause as the men in the row boat watched people line the railings of the nearby ships. A man in frayed gray robes pushed his way through the crowd and leaned over the railing.
"Lord Ashram!" he cried.
"Groder!" Ashram replied while sheathing his sword. "Your rowers are slow," Ashram stated. Groder did not smile, and Ashram did not expect him to.
"Master," was all Groder said. Ashram shook his head.
"We have struck land; it is perfectly visible from here. Pull in your oars and ride the current to the shore. I have men waiting to assist you," Ashram explained and the former sorcerer nodded. Groder shifted and appeared to shout out orders down below. He seemed to remember something, and returned his attention back to Ashram.
"Sire?" he called.
"What is it, Groder?"
"Where are you going?" Groder eyed the path the rowboat was on; it was the opposite of the ship.
"Just going to bring in the other ships," Ashram replied. "Go on," he waved Groder away. "We won't go out too far," Ashram consoled, noting the distraught looks on his follower's face.
"Yes, sire," Groder nodded, and disappeared within the crowd. When Ashram looked back at the ships the small row boat past, he noted they indeed pulled in their oars and were moving steadily towards the beach.
By the time the sun began to set, the men on the rowboat were more than exhausted, and Ashram reluctantly gave the order to turn around. They had only met eighteen ships. It was practically dark when the small fleet of rowboats Ashram had taken with him came ashore again. It was only because of the light of the fires set upon the beach that they were sure of how to return. Ashram cursed himself for his recklessness. He could have easily gotten his men lost out at sea on those tiny boats. The men were practically ecstatic to set foot on solid ground again.
Ashram strode to the row of signal bonfires and saw several tents created from the sails and even more lean-to's made from palms lining the tree line. He saw crates upon crates of belongings and supplies, but what caught his eye the most, was a long log flattened into a makeshift table and covered in exotic fruits. He barely kept his jaw from dropping, but his men were not so reserved. They yelped in surprised and dashed over with more energy than he thought they had. People around the table chastised them and warned them not to eat so fast. Too much food after such a long period of starvation would make them sick. Ashram remained by the fire. Pirotess emerged from the foliage and scurried up to him, with Groder following close behind.
"Lord Ashram," she said and curtly bowed. "Thank the gods you are safe. We were beginning to worry you would not find your way back," Ashram stared at her for a moment before looking back to the fire.
"Who's idea was this? The fires?" he asked nonchalantly. Groder started, and stepped forwards.
"Mine, sire. I thought… if the fires were large and numerous enough you would be able to see them from a great distance," he stated with a bow. Ashram nodded.
"Good thinking," he said. "You saved our lives," and with than Ashram walked over to join his men. One of them offered him a water goblet and Ashram graciously accepted, but drank with restraint. He reached for one of the fruits.
"Yes, I'm sure you'd like the star fruit, I know it's one of my favorites," the voice laughed. Ashram's hand jerked back and his spine straightened. "What, did you think I had left you? No, Lord Ashram, I am still here. I will always be here," the voice stated menacingly.
I-I need more time, I cannot leave them yet… Ashram thought, his eyes burning through the forest, searching for the source of the voice.
"More time then? All right, I can wait. I am patient. I've waited thousands of years, I suppose I can wait a little longer for a sacrifice…" the voice conceded and Ashram's eyes widened.
You can hear me? he thought and a deep, throaty laugh resounded.
"Of course, I am speaking to your mind, after all."
My mind…?
"Yes, why do you think no one else hears me?" came the laughing voice.
I - who are you? beads of sweat began to form on Ashram's forehead.
"My name is Barbas. I am the King of Gods! And this is my land, Crystania, the land of the Gods," the voice, Barbas, proclaimed.
"Crystania…" Ashram muttered.
"My Lord Ashram… Lord Ashram!" Pirotess had her hands on his shoulders again. He started a little when he realized this, quickly shrugged her off, and proceeded to glare at her. It took he a moment, but he soon realized he was also on his knees. The goblet spilled on the ground in front of him.
"Lord Ashram! Are you all right, sire!" Groder was close by, but did not shame the emperor and offer to help him up. Ashram slowly stood by himself, flicking his cape in Pirotess' direction. She hopped a few feet back, to avoid being slapped by the heavy cloth. Ashram dusted himself off.
"Yes, I'm fine. I was just taken by a sudden fit of fatigue, that's all," Ashram shook his head slightly. He did not wait for either of his followers to speak. "How is everything? Are all of the supplies unloaded?"
Groder blinked. "Yes, sire," he stammered. "And everyone has settled into temporary shelters for tonight. We have already pitched your tent, sire," he bowed slightly.
"Ah, I believe I will go there now," Ashram sighed.
"Please follow me then, sire," Groder nodded and led Ashram into the forest, with Pirotess a few steps behind. The sound of the ocean surf was the dominant sound in the forest, but the yowls and echoes of feral creatures ricocheted off the trees. Three tents were pitched within a small clearing, the largest was the farthest back. Groder held open the flap to this one, and Ashram ducked his head to step inside. It was not much, dirt floor, a wooden chair, sparse table, and cot. Ashram withheld a groan as he settled into the wooden chair. His slender eyebrows furrowed when Groder walked out and Pirotess took his place.
"You want something?" he growled. Ashram noticed she looked a bit hurt, but only leaned farther into his chair.
"I took a group of Dark Elves out scouting earlier, as you ordered, your Highness," she gave a shallow bow.
"And?" Ashram murmured. His upper body was no longer numb; instead it burned, and ached with every move. He gingerly touched his nose and winced, his normally fair skin was burnt and dry. He returned his arm to the chair.
"Permission to give our report, sire?"
"Permission granted."
"We found several creeks stemming from a major river within walking distance to the north of here. All land we came across was covered in forest or fertile plains. There are several indigenous species already identified. Most seem docile and no threat. There are many birds, over fifteen species counted so far; none of them coincide with those of Lodoss, or Marmo. We have identified a herd of wild horses, tall in stature of about 16 hands with sturdy legs and a strong hind-quarters: possibly good candidates for war-horses if tamable. A string of mountains obstructs the path inland from here. We did not scout the mountains; they are a safe enough distance away. And sire?"
"Yes?" Ashram sighed. He was exhausted. He just wanted to sleep.
"Elensar would like to speak with you," she said.
"Elensar?" he repeated.
"Yes, sire. He was one of the Dark Elves that accompanied me on the scouting mission," she answered. Ashram paused. He knew he recognized that name from somewhere else.
"Your cousin," he remembered and he saw her blush.
"Yes… sire."
"Hmph. What does he want?"
"I do not know, sire, but he seemed to believe it was of the utmost importance," Pirotess stated. Ashram rubbed the back of his neck and absently tugged at his the knotted mess that was his hair.
"Fine, very well, tell him to hurry up," he conceded. Pirotess nodded and bowed out of the tent. Ashram's hand became entangled in his hair. He growled as he struggled to untangle his hair somewhat. Studying the mess, it became clear this could be a problem. He momentarily declared a draw, and placed his hand back upon the armrest. The flap to his tent was cautiously swept aside and a rather emaciated Dark Elf walked in. His prominent cheeks were hollow, but his golden eyes were still sharp. Red tattoos marred the man's face, neck, chest, arms and hands. A silver circlet was wrapped around his forehead, with jewels dangling before his pointed ears. His lithe limbs were stiff as he bowed low to Ashram.
"Sire," the Dark Elf addressed him.
"What is it you wish to tell me, Dark Elf?" Ashram asked, in one of his official voices.
"Sire, my name is Elensar," the Dark Elf stated, and Ashram did not interrupt to say he already knew that. "I was with the scouting party while you were away, and I discovered something most disconcerting," he said quite self-importantly. Ashram arched an eyebrow.
"Well then, what is it?"
"Dragons. There are dragons here. Not ancient dragons at least, but even normal dragons are strong enough to be incredibly dangerous," Elensar explained and Ashram felt his other eyebrow move to match the other's height.
"Dragons? Why did Pirotess not tell me? She was the leader of the group, I believe," Ashram's chin rose a bit. Elensar blinked a little, but then raised his gaze from the ground to meet Ashram's.
"Because she did not see them. Actually, I did not see them either."
"Then how do you know they are there? Don't waste my time Dark Elf," Ashram growled.
"I… I am a Student of Dragon Lore, sire."
"A Dragon Master? Why was I not aware of this?" Ashram sat up straighter.
"Oh, I am not a Dragon Master, sire, I am yet a student. I haven't the power to control dragons for a long period of time," Elensar dropped his gaze.
"Who taught you?" Ashram narrowed his eyes.
"He… he is dead, sire," Elensar said.
"That does not answer my question."
"I cannot say. I am a member of the Society of the Drake. We are supposed to remain in isolation, and anonymity," Elensar explained and Ashram noticed the Dark Elf 'student of Dragon Lore' began to sweat.
"And yet you are telling me now," Ashram muttered. Elensar's eyes widened a fraction before narrowing again.
"Yes, sire. The… the Society of the Drake was stationed on Marmo…"
"Ah, I see," Ashram leaned back. "So, what do you propose we do with these dragons that we cannot see?"
"The Draco Occidentalis Magnus is a man-eater, sire," Elensar paused. "Luckily, the Occidentalis Magnus lives in only remote locations, namely the mountains to the north."
"I asked for suggestions, not lectures, Elensar," Ashram snapped irritably. The poor Dark Elf jumped. For a moment Ashram thought he should have told Pirotess he would see the young Dark Elf in the morning, when Ashram was better rested. He was terrible when he was in a foul mood.
"Oh, yes, forgive me, sire," he quickly apologized, moving down on one knee. "As a member of the Society of the Drake… I am obliged to tell you to leave them at peace… but as a Marmo citizen, and a faithful subject of yours, I suggest that we hunt the Occidentalis Magnus in the mountains, so they will not have the pleasure of pillaging whatever villages we might build."
"Interesting developments," Ashram muttered.
"Sire?" Elensar's ear's perked as he tilted his head. Ashram shook his.
"Elensar, what type of dragons do the Dragon Riders of Highland tame?"
"The Magnus, sire."
"The man-eating ones?" Ashram asked skeptically.
"Yes, sire. The Dragon Riders of Highland hand-rear them … although some prove untamable still," Elensar explained. Ashram paused, and drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. He waved a hand.
"Never mind, I will pursue this later. Nothing can be done as of now," Ashram growled.
"Sire, do you… want to tame the dragons?" the Dark Elf braved and Ashram narrowed his eyes.
"I was contemplating it. But for now, we will satisfy ourselves with creating a settlement," Ashram said guardedly. Elensar nodded.
"Yes, sire," he said quietly.
"I will take care of the… Magnus problem soon enough. But right now, we all need rest," Ashram stated and the Dark Elf nodded again. "Go now. Leave me," Ashram pointed to the flap.
"Yes, sire," Elensar bowed and left. Ashram stretched and debated taking off his armor. He was just reaching for the latch on his cloak when he heard someone outside his tent. He unsheathed the Soul Crusher in a split second and he spun to face the entrance. Pirotess drew the flap and Ashram growled aloud.
"I'll kill you next time, you know that?" he warned.
"Should I announce myself?" she countered, and he remained silent as he sheathed his the Soul Crusher. "I'll take that as a no, sire," she said with a small smirk. "I just wanted to let you know that several soldiers have already slept, and are taking turns on guard duty. You needn't worry," Pirotess said, with a wrinkle of her nose. Ashram turned away, and discarded his cloak upon the chair. He stretched a bit as he reached to unclasp his armor. He winced as the muscles in his shoulders strained against the movement. "Please, allow me, sire," Pirotess approached him. He tensed as she undid the buckles at his ribs, but when the great weight lifted from his shoulders as she removed the armor and placed it by the chair, he found it hard to find fault in her assistance. He turned to her and regarded her with cool gray eyes. Her amber ones stared back. They regarded each other for a tense moment, in Ashram's opinion, before he spoke again.
"Alright. I expect to know everything that occurred while I was out and while I was asleep, tomorrow morning."
"Of course, sire," Pirotess smiled.
"You are dismissed," he finally managed to rasp out. She bowed and disappeared, leaving him alone with his thoughts, as he collapsed upon the cot, praying he would be blessed with a dreamless sleep. His eyebrows furrowed. He was never that lucky.
Author's Note: Mwahaha, this was much longer, right? Barbas makes his appearance! gasp And Pirotess has a cousin? Well, all the Dark Elves are actually related, someway or the other. They are one big happy family (okay, maybe that's stretching it a bit) but still, the Dark Elves consider themselves all related, even if they aren't by blood. Or at least they do in my world. And you have entered my word. So there. :-p Tehe.
I've also heard that is no longer allowing us (namely the writers) respond to reviews in the chapters... this makes me sad, but I'm going to stop responding just in case. I will continue to read the reviews, as I love my readers and even more so my reviewers. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter (second chapter, third installment).
And I just found a bunch of mistakes and attempted to fix them…