Chapter 31
17 Nov 2024
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Disclaimer: See Chapter 1
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A/N: I know many authors have said this before, but this is not a dead story. Writing is a hobby. Life and family come first, but I keep writing when I can. I hope you enjoy this instalment.
WolfgangNH
-oOo-
January 14, 1994
Rothsnarg, France
The goblins were celebrating.
Magic recognized Harry and Sirius as the last of the ministries that made the deals, so they were the only ones that could break the old treaties and make new ones. Sirius wanted Hammond's lawyers to review the new treaties before they signed them, but a tentative deal had been struck to provide mutual aid to each other. If the treaty went through, it would break all the old treaties. The new one would allow goblins access to weapons they didn't currently have, not to mention allow them to trade among the normal folk, possess magical foci and still be the bankers of the magical world, at least in Europe and for the new colony of Isla Matanceros. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing yet, but if they were to survive in this world, it would probably be necessary.
The tentative deal was enough to call a celebration.
The great hall of the palace was crowded with a half dozen long tables and hundreds of goblins. A roaring pyre was in the centre of the hall, giving off a warmth that drove out the slight chill of the air. Meade, wine and grog were liberally being passed around. Harry had never heard goblins laughing or seen them enjoying themselves like this before. More than two hundred years without wizards, asides from whomever was left over from their old employees, had done much to lessen the animosity. The fact that the horde was looking at extinction if it continued the way it was, probably also a factor.
Sitting at the head table, he was three seats down from Ragnog. He knew that Ragnog had been the head of Gringotts in his timeline, but here he was king, head of the Gringotts clan. Next to Ragnog was Anders, then Sirius. Karl sat on the other side of him. Ragnog's son, Ccackpol was just the other side of Karl.
The last two days had been a whirlwind of meetings and a small number of explorations around the enormous underground city.
Hagrid and the other half-giants sat at a table to his right, drinking and carousing just as much as the goblins.
"They know how to celebrate," Karl said, leaning towards him.
"I've never seen the like," Harry agreed. The goblins he knew where much surlier and unkind.
"Father has been in deep negotiations since we arrived," Karl told him for the hundredth time since he had arrived.
Harry had been involved in those meetings the last two days. "Well, he's done a cracking job."
Karl looked at him confused. "Cracking?"
"Good," Harry said with a wry grin before reaching for his own flagon of mead. He had to admit it was really good.
A goblin came up to them, slamming a large, sheathed knife into the table, a toothless grin on her face. Karl jumped and looked ready to fight. Harry lowered his flagon enough to see the goblin maiden. He knew enough about goblins to know this was a challenge, but not one to the death. The knife would be unsheathed if it was a death challenge. As long as the goblins were like the ones he had been taught about. So far, their traditions seemed to match what his Hagrid, Sirius and others had told him.
Those around them all turned to see what would happen. The female partially withdrew her blade. He rose an eye before using his translation medallion.
"I was always taught a goblin never drew a blade unless they meant to draw blood," Harry said to her. Sirius was keeping an eye on him. So was every goblin within fifty feet of them now. He had a feeling this was something important.
"I am Rustmasher of the Errawel Clan. You carry a goblin blade and claim to be blooded. If you call yourself a goblin ally, I challenge you to prove it," she said in the gravelly voice of most goblins. He would never be able to tell the sexes apart by voice alone. He only knew it was a woman because they tended to wear outfits that highlighted their breasts when not in armour.
Harry didn't take his eyes off her black eyes. "By blade, hand or magic?"
Anders had made sure he understood the form, having warned him, Sirius and Karl they may be challenged after Ragnog had mentioned it.
Rustmasher's grin was feral. "Blade and hand."
Harry nodded. "Sword or knife?"
He took Gryffindor's sword off his back and put it onto the table. Harry had been tested for its claim and had not been found wanting. He had also used some of the extra gold to purchase the life rights to the blade, which had given them some respect. No one would touch it.
He reached for a new blade that had been gifted to him by Ragnog. It was a large bowie knife style blade. He knew that he didn't really know how to use it like his sword. He would have to ask Yvonne and Simmons to teach him.
"You dishonour me to use anything less than your best," she snarled.
Nodding, Harry put the knife onto the table, then picked up his sword. "Rustmasher of the Errawel Clan, I will prove my prowess to you and the clans gathered. As goblin ally, we will stand firm in your battles, as you stand firm in ours."
FUCK! He hated this type of attention and shite.
He knew he was under the protection of their hospitality, meaning that she couldn't kill him. He hoped.
"To third blood, nefling," she blustered.
Harry gave her a toothless grin. Without warning, he drew the sword, jumped onto the table and brought it down. In a challenge like this, the only rules were not to be killed.
She snarled. In a fluid motion, Rustmasher pulled her blade full out, threw the scabbard away while bringing her blade up as her other hand reached behind her back. A space cleared around them as cheers and jeers took up. Not to mention a healthy amount of betting.
His blade was expertly diverted as she spun around. A second knife was in her off hand. Harry had to dodge it, before parrying the first blade. She was staying close so that he couldn't bring his long blade to bear.
He managed to move the longer blade just enough to block a few furious swipes before kicking out. He had been learning some of the martial arts of the others, but he wasn't great at close fighting like this.
Caught off guard, his foot connected with her chest. He had enough power to throw her back. She landed on her back. Her surprise didn't last long as she rolled to avoid a stab he made at her leg.
The crowds around them cheered.
Harry pressed his advantage of height as she scrambled to her feet. His sword sung through the air. It nicked her arm.
There was a large commotion in the crowd. He tried to drown out the hissing, bowing and laughs.
She hissed in pain before blocking his next attack. She managed a crouch, then jumped at him as she parried his blade when he swiped it up on her back swing. Harry was forced to back up, his sword moving quickly to keep the knifes from slicing him. His defences failed when his foot hit something. He fell back as his ankle rolled.
Rustmasher pressed her advantage. He felt the blade slice into his leg. She let out a feral battle scream, jumping on him. Harry brought his fist up, managing to get between her arms. It connected with her long nose. Her head whipped back, and she rolled over. Harry rolled over the other way, moving to get up.
He let out a hiss of pain as his cut leg took on the weight of his body. He grabbed the hand-and-a-half pommel with both hands, holding it ready towards his foe.
The whole hall was avidly watching. It was loud and raucous. Most were cheering or jeering them. He noticed a few changing coins.
She stood up, a scowl on her face. She spat and a green glob of blood hit the floor. He could see blood trickling down her upper lip from her nose. He stepped towards her, not wanting her to catch her bearing. Well, it was more of a limp.
"You will not get me again, nefling," she angrily stated.
Harry gave her a wry grin, hoping to upset her. "It seems I'm doing pretty well so far."
This brought out a round of laughs and guffaws.
She snarled before running at him.
"Bloody fuck," he muttered. The blighter was Merlin-be-awful fast. This had to be some goblin magic. No wonder they always held their own in their wars against the wizards.
Harry found himself on the defensive as she danced around him, her large knives trying to clear a path to get her close enough to him to land another strike. He found himself moving his sword faster than anything he had ever done when practicing with Simmons.
He over committed himself with a parry, hoping to get a clear space to land one more strike on Rustmasher. She used it to suddenly roll under his blade. He tried to step back, but a knife came up to cut the back of his left hand.
Harry kicked out as she came up to give him the coup-de-gras. His foot connected with her arm, over balancing her. He moved to recover, his blade moving to hit the knife in her right hand. The knife went flying. She rolled again to avoid his reverse swing up.
When she got up again, she looked to be breathing slightly heavier. Harry flicked his hand to try to get rid of the pain. Blood spattered on the floor. The goblins around them were in a near frenzy at the blood sport.
He didn't give her time to ready herself again. He advanced, the sword doing a dance he wasn't used too. His magic was reacting to the magic being used against him, giving him a speed he never knew he could have. She twirled, twisted and blocked the sword, but without both knives, she couldn't get the advantage again.
With a snarl, she did something he wasn't expecting. She suddenly blinked.
It was all he could think to describe it.
She was there, then suddenly she wasn't.
His already rising magic reacted. He felt the disturbance in the ambient magic behind him. He spun, the knife just missing his right side. The sword swiped across him from the left. At the last second, he pulled it up just in time to not cut off her arm. The tip of the blade cut a little deeper into her bicep than he meant too.
She hissed in pain. She bared her teeth, and a feral look came into her eyes. Harry did his best to stop the coming attack…
"The match is won!" Ragnog called out when Rustmasher brought up her blade. Harry stopped, feeling the tip of her blade poking through his jumper and shirt in the centre of his chest as his blade was about ready to come down on her head.
She was breathing rather heavily. He was glaring down at her, ready to have the sword split her in twain. If he was going to die, she would as well.
They glared at each other for a long moment before she nodded. Stepping back, she gave him a small bow of her head. "I will fight at your side. I name thee Swordblighter," she said.
The goblins around him all cheered. There was a lot of coin exchanging hands. Ragnog gave him a satisfied nod. Harry grinned, which was more of a grimace as he forced himself to bow to Rustmasher, then Ragnog. His leg hurt but he knew he couldn't show them any weakness.
After limping to the table, he only conjured a few bandages to wrap around his hand and leg. As this was a match of honour, anything more would have him lose face among the goblins. He could take a look at them later, but he knew he couldn't use any magic to heal them. Hopefully this would move their negotiations forward, especially since the goblins had access to some base potion supplies.
-oOo-
January 15, 1994
Bethmale France
The cars were pulled over onto a ploughed shoulder. The snowstorm had been rather bad the last few days. Four feet of new snow was on the ground, making this trek exceedingly difficult, but they needed to resolve the issue of the mages. Waiting for spring, as the guide was pressing for, was not an option.
A guide, twenty of his Order and him were gathered. Most were not hikers or back country men, which made this a risky gamble, but they should have a good chance of seeing this done as they were blessed with the powers to make it through. Though, he was finding that the order making the decision to not train any normal troops for the last hundred years was troubling him.
"Carissime Domine, da nobis ardorem ad videndum bene tuum," he incanted while holding his staff of David in one hand. He felt the divine power flow through him and infuse a warmth into his clothes and those around him. They wouldn't freeze any time soon. The ungainly snowshoes and the large snow drifts were a much different matter though.
He didn't know any incantation or prayer to help with this.
The Frenchman that was their guide came over to him. "Father, are you sure about this? Most of these men are not ready for such a journey."
"I will be alright, my son. We are blessed and will make it. Please guide us," he said.
The guide frowned. Looking at the muskets slung over most shoulders, he commented, "Those muskets won't be needed. There isn't anything that would require such weapons. They should be left behind. They will just weigh you down."
Shouldering his own musket, he gave the man a gentle smile. "We know the quarry we are after. I assure you these guns will be sufficient."
The man gave him a dubious look. Father Reginald didn't like doing this, but he touched the amulet around his neck. He needed this man to guide them without question. If God didn't allow this when his need was great, they wouldn't know the incantation. He said in Latin, "Domine mi, da fidelibus tuis voluntatem tuam sequi."
The man gave him a smile.
"Of course, father. Let me just check on everyone's gear," the man said.
Father Reginald gave a rather magnanimous bow of his head.
Brother Constantine came up to him, speaking in Latin. It was the only common language they knew. "Father, I know you do not want the infidels to escape, but it is not an easy trek, and we do not know what it is like beyond the barrier."
"I understand, Brother Constantine, but these men pose a significant risk to our mission. We must route them out and any others that may be there," he told the man.
"Are you sure this is enough? I know the old stories. It took an army of thirty-five thousand and three hundred Order members to take down the fortress," Constantine reminded him.
"I know, but we have kept up the Inquisition. There cannot be more than a handful. Even if they have wands, we know the ancient scripts on making the muskets and the ammunition cannot be blocked by any devil skills they have," he reassured the man.
After a moment, the man nodded his head. "As you say, Father Reginald."
He had the belief that this inquisition was sanctioned and blessed by God. They would succeed at their task.
-oOo-
January 16, 1994
Isla Matanceros, Costa Rica
Lex was holding her hair back as the skiff raced up the bay towards the beach where a few tents were setup. She could see a few people walking about the beach and the edge of the forest.
Muldoon was sitting next to her and her mother and Doctor Bones across from them. Her mother had told her she needed to get out of the computer lab and Muldoon had offered for her to come over to the island with them. He was here to look at what they would need for security while the other two were talking with the architect and project manager.
She thought it odd not to see him without a rifle. Everywhere they went on Isla Nublar, Muldoon always had a rifle near him or in his hands since last summer. Not that she blamed him. She still had nightmares from that day.
"We can't take the helicopters in yet. We need to make a clearing near the construction site or a road inland. There are a few places we could bring the Chinooks into over the ridgeline to land, otherwise they will have to drop crates on the beach," a woman yelled out behind her with a New York accent. Miss Warbeck was in her early thirties with shoulder length chestnut hair, wearing shorts and a light shirt. The woman was sweating, even though it wasn't that bad out. It was probably around eighty today.
Lex wasn't sure how much she liked the woman yet. Then again, Lex was weary of anyone she didn't know since being kidnapped.
"I'm only glad to finally be seeing the place. I don't typically design things without seeing the land first," she told him.
"Well, security is tight. As you know, my employer works for InGen and Jurassic Park is not far away," Muldoon said.
"Yes, I'm interested to see Jurassic Park. I hear tickets are already a year out," she called back.
"My father only sold the high-end tickets. The general admission tickets only go on sale next month and he won't allow bookings more than six months out. He wants people to come," her mother loudly said.
She focused on the beach as the small skiff approached. The beaches of Isla Matanceros were all black sands. That made the sands hot when the sun shone on it all day, but it was neat compared to the white sands back in Massachusetts. Isla Nublar didn't have any beaches.
"The black sand is from the volcanic rocks," Doctor Bones shouted out as she must have been thinking along the same lines as Lex.
As they came in, two men waded out into the small waves to take the skiff and pull it in. Lex didn't wait. She had been in a boat for almost two hours and wanted to get out and explore. The larger boat they had come in was up the bay.
"Is she supposed to do that?" the woman suddenly cried out.
"She's fine. Lex, don't go far yet," her mother said..
"She won't wander far, and she knows how to take care of herself," Muldoon agreed.
She nodded to him. Muldoon was someone she respected and listened too. Not that she didn't listen to her mom, but Harry and Muldoon knew much better the dangers of the area. Not that there should be much here. Not yet, at least.
Walking up the beach, she knelt and put a hand on the hot, wet sands.
It was a few minutes before she was joined by Miss Warbeck and the others.
"Miss Warbeck wants to check on the crew and the surveyors then we will look at the area the town is going into," Muldoon told her.
"Sure," she said. "How far can I go?"
Muldoon handed her a radio. "This should reach within a few hundred yards of the beach. No further. There shouldn't be anything dangerous here. You have your stick?"
Lex tapped her forearm. Just under her thin cardigan was her holster and wand.
The woman looked a little dubiously at her while her mother and Doctor Bones were looking at the tents and the dozen or so people working around the edge of the trees.
Lex's head swivelled all around as she took the area in. Like Isla Sorna or Isla Nublar, there were high cliffs, hills and volcano cones. Her mother said that they should all be dormant. Because of that, they couldn't use the geothermal generators like on Isla Nublar. It was why this island hadn't been considered for the park.
The beach they stood on was on the western side of a large inlet. It was almost dead center of the island. Across from them was another beach and hills. The jungles were thick, and the songs of birds could be heard all around them. The only thing natural to the island besides the birds were a few lizards.
After seeing some of the books in the last week, she was wondering if they could do more here?
Grandpa and Sirius were talking about turning the preserves into places like Jurassic Park. She knew that Harry loved the dinosaurs, but he had been starting to talk increasingly about the creatures of his world. Could they bring some of them here?
"We'll build a road down the bay and build a dock down there. It will be easier to have the petrol storage there, and maybe the generator plant," she told them.
"I know we wanted to investigate if geothermal could be installed here," her mother said.
"The generator should only be for backup. Geothermal would be ideal, but I was told the volcano on the island is sleeping. Engineers are already working lines between here and Isla Sorna," she told them.
Lex zoned out what they were talking about. Twirling around, she was starting to realize that this was going to be her home.
The birds and the gentle rustle of the trees was nice.
She wasn't sure if this was where she wanted to spend the rest of her life, but if Harry was here and they could work on integrating magic and computers, she would be happy wherever she was.
She wondered down the beach to see what else there was besides the trees and sand…
-oOo-
January 17, 1994
Near Bethmale, France
For a day-and-a-half the group had been trudging through and over thick drifts and sheets of snow. The frigid air bit into his lungs as he breathed rather hard. The strain of the hike was greater than expected.
Even though some of the tenants of the Order were to keep from gluttony and slothfulness, few of them actually did the type of activity the winter hiking was requiring. Trudging in snowshoes was not like walking down the street. So, Father Reginald was breathing heavily as they came to a stop.
The man that was guiding them had had to be compelled to follow the Lord's will a few times and by the way he was looking at them now, Father Reginald knew the Lord's will would have to be compelled again.
"Father, we should turn back," the man said.
"We must continue on."
The man looked up to the sky. Father Reginald followed his gaze. High level clouds were moving in. "Father, there is another system moving in. If we don't turn around now, we will be trapped up here. As it is, it's over a day to get back to the trailhead, maybe more with how slowly we are moving."
He agreed they were moving much slower than he wanted, but they could not turn back. "Lord, please forgive me." He took his glove off to take up the Rod of David from his side. They only worked if touching skin. It was cold and hurt to touch, but this was needed. "Domine mi, da fidelibus tuis voluntatem tuam sequi."
A white light leapt from the rod to the man. His eyes went out of focus for a moment.
"My lamb, you will lead us to the portal and on. Protect us as best you can," Father Reginald demanded.
The man nodded. "I will lead you on. There are rock shelters that we should be able to make before nightfall. We may have to camp there for a day or two."
Father Reginald frowned.
"Very well," he said.
Brother Samuel came to his side. "Father," the man whispered. After he nodded to the man, Brother Samuel went on. "Can you help Brother Martin? His warming prayer keeps failing and he is not looking well."
Father Reginald looked behind him. Brother Martin was the oldest person of their party. He was in his fifties and had been one of the Order's warriors when younger but had not been in the field for a decade or more. The man didn't look to be doing well. "I will help. We will all have to share our gift so that we do not tire ourselves. We will need every man here to take on the heathens."
"Yes, father," the man said.
-oOo-
The same day…
Rothsnarg, France
Negotiations had gone as far as they could, and both sides seemed pleased.
Harry was in the workshop he had been led too. Two goblins were busy making a new double door wardrobe. Karl and him were watching them while Sirius and Alain were finalizing the treaty to take to Isla Nublar to review.
The one concession they had been able to wriggle out of the goblins was this: a new vanishing cabinet.
Yesterday Ragnog had laughed at them when Sirius had mentioned the bitches… ah, witches… of Beauxbatons had not wanted to share this secret. Apparently, it was the goblins that knew the secrets.
"Pay attention, child," the elder woman goblin scolded. She had picked Harry to work with her while Karl worked with the younger goblin on the other side of the shop.
Harry rolled his eyes. The goblins were still as gruff as he remembered. "I am, matron Rrugnurl."
She scowled before tracing her long nail along the rune she had been carving. "Rune crafting is as much about the intricacy of craftsmanship as it is the intent behind it. You must be meticulous in your working of the material. The lines must be sharp. The shape is as much an expression of the workman as it is the magic infused into it."
Harry had felt her magic as she worked.
"The rune is not as important as the intent. It is a construct used to tell others what the intent of the magic is supposed to be. The sharper and better crafted the rune, the easier it is for the magic to understand what you want it to do as well as tell others its intent." It was like she was caressing the rune as she taught him the basics of rune crafting.
"This rune is the true language of the Underdwellers." He had learned that was what the goblins called themselves in their tongue. "At one time we lived in the light and wind. There was a great catastrophe that is not spoken of, and since then we have claimed the under lands as our own. In the dark, we needed light. That was when the True Language was gifted to us. It is the tongue, the word and magic of our people. It is a secret we have never given before to anyone not of the Nations."
Harry's brow rose. "Then why teach this to me?"
The elder goblin looked up to him. Her black eyes bored into his soul. "There was a prophecy," she started. Harry's gut sank. "It spoke of the rebirth of magic in the lands above. It spoke of the one that would lead the way. A man would lead us into the light again and we would become that of the dark and light. He would be marked by magic."
Harry scowled and rubbed at the scar that would not go away.
She didn't look to his head. Instead, a clawed hand reached out and tapped his arm where the basilisk had bit him. "You speak the tongue. You are marked by the Queen. You are friend to creature, man and those that did not have a voice before. You and your clan honour us by treating us like people. You have been blooded. I see your heart, warrior, but warriors cannot fight wars all their days. You have a power in you, Harry of the Potters. Magic has marked you. Ragnog and the elders want us to tie our fate to yours. They do not want to be confined to this single mountain anymore. You are the key."
Bloody fuck! He screamed in his head. Of course, the prophecies that Anders had been alluding to were about him. There had been a prophesy that had ruled his old life and now seemed like it would control him here. Harry wasn't about to let it though.
He had found a life he liked.
A girl he was fairly sure he was truly in love with.
Friends and family that didn't looked at him like some messiah.
He had accomplished things on his own merit and skill, not just the blind luck that led him before.
Harry wasn't going to let a prophesy rule him.
On the other hand, he wanted to see magic continue. He had many things to protect. The dinosaurs. The preserves. Lex. Sirius. Rexy.
Rrugnurl's eyes didn't look away, but as his resolution took over, she nodded. "You are a person of prophesy, but you will not let it rule you. You have the power, the force of will and the spirit of the warrior to keep your path true." She looked down and waved to the runes. "Passing my knowledge to you and your progeny is a small payment for what you will bring back. Now, this rune is the heart rune."
She traced it again.
Harry looked at her confused. "The heart rune?"
"Mmlugnarleawen. The heart. The power. The centre. It is the one that all others draw upon, for without the heart there can be no life. No heat. No light. No magic." Looking up, a clawed finger tapped his chest. "All power comes from the heart. Emotion. Magic. Life. Death. Nothing is there without the heart. It is the core of this rune set as it will provide the magic to the cabinet."
She looked over to Karl and the other goblin. "Muskfang teaches the other how to work the wood. How to stain it, paint it, shape it and other skills that will be important for other endeavours. I teach you the way to use it. The runes he learns are for the builders. The runes you learn are for the masters."
She put the carving tool into his hands then pointed at the side panel next to him. Harry looked at it dubiously. "I've never done this before."
"And that is why you are learning. In a decade or two you will probably know enough to not be my apprentice, but until then, you learn," she ordered. Her finger started to scratch out the shape of the elaborate rune. "As you carve, you must concentrate. Your magic must be channelled through the wood of the handle, through the steal of the blade and infuse the grain of the wood. The sharper your focus, the sharper the sides of the rune wall, the more fluid you make the curves and connections, the more powerful it will be."
The wood had been ripped up along the bath he had to carve. "You will think of the power this will need. These cabinets must have the power to transport living and inanimate things. If it fails, then you will lose what you try to send. The power must be protective, to keep those things that you want to send safe, while having the intent to give it the strength to cover vast distance. The distance and the intent for how far you want it, adds the danger as the more powerful something is, the worse it will be when it fails."
Harry swallowed. "This is just practice, right?"
She grinned, not showing her teeth, but it still made him uneasy. Harry let out a long breath. Lex or Hermione would be so much better for this, not him. But he had been given a challenge and Harry had never backed down from a challenge.
He took a long breath before letting it out. Harry looked to the heart rune, Mmlugnarleawen, on the other panel. When he thought he had studied it enough, he leaned over the panel. The straight edge of the chisel easily cut into the wood following the path her fingernail had made.
"Channel your intent," Rrugnurl barked.
"Right," he muttered before focusing both on his magic and the carving while trying to remember what he had been told about the rune and what he was supposed to be doing.
Rrugnurl kept her beady eyes on him, occasionally barking out orders or critiques as he worked on it.
-oOo-
Later that day…
Beauxbatons Preserve, France
The group of twenty were standing on the edge of the wood and looking at the archway not far up the path. The taint of something not touched by God was strong. A few of the brothers shifted uncomfortably at the feel.
Father Reginald knew about protective magics. He had seen how the ones that knew how to make blessed lands worked. This magic wasn't foul like it had been in Wales, but it wasn't exactly inviting either.
"This is the place you were asking about," the guide told them.
A lazy snowflake drifted down.
Looking through the woods, he was surprised to see cairns disappearing off into the distance. Instinctively he knew that if he tried to go any further except through this arch then it would not be a pleasant experience.
The day had gotten colder, and a stiff breeze was cutting through their blessings of heat.
"How much further to the rock shelters?"
"Another hour past the gate. I've never wandered further in than that, but a trail continues into the valley," the guide said.
"That is where we must go. Lead the way," he told the man.
As they started up the path, Father Reginald was thinking that they would find their quarry not far away. The path was travelled and the snow pushed to the side. It was easier to travel. The wizards must use snowshoes as the footprints were almost the same size.
That was the only positive as they passed under the arch. A shiver went through him. It was a very unwelcome feeling. He wasn't the only one. The single snowflake had multiplied into hundreds within yards of the arch. Within ten minutes, the show was coming down fast and in in large clumps. The group was silent as they tried to keep pace with the guide.
When they finally made the rock shelters, where were a series of overhangs that the guide said were just a short distance from the path, it was obvious that others used it. Roughhewn logs were thrown haphazardly into piles in a deep alcove so that they would remain dry. A large fire pit was in the centre of the overhang. The smell had him crinkle his nose. As did the pile of bones in the corner.
"Savages," he said to himself.
"Father, I have already instructed a fire be built, the tents erected on the edge of the overhang and food started so that we can get a hot meal into everyone," Brother Constantine told him.
"Very good. Make sure that all the muskets are loaded, and I want shifts of four guards tonight. It is apparent that this place is often used," he told the man. "Perhaps we can catch them before we go much further."
Brother Constantine bowed his head. "Yes father."
By the time nightfall came, it had already been dark from the clouds and snow. The only lights came from the fire, their rods or the flashlights. The night swallowed the light not far from the edge of the overhang. He had an uneasy feeling that had not lessoned since passing through the protections of the valley. He had never felt so much magic.
It felt wrong… he didn't know why. If he had only known it was because it was pure, untamed and untainted magic, not the arts the Order used, that had him feeling that way.
That feeling had him still awake an hour after laying down into the cot. The guide had said they would be here for a day, maybe as much as three, before the storm cleared enough to let them go on. He didn't like the delay, but it was the Lord's way. Patience was a virtue they could cultivate.
The uneasy feeling grew as the night went on. Strange sounds, groans of trees heavy with snow and the swish of branches when the winds picked up just wouldn't let him sleep.
The first sign that something was not right was the soft thud that vibrated up his cot legs. It was odd enough that he sat up in the cold tent. He reached for his rod, unsure why. Another thud had him getting out of bed and slipping on his boots.
"WHAT IS THAT! Brother Micheal!" one of the guards cried out.
The night was rent by a roar of something unholy.
His eyes widened. "Dear, God! Give us protection," he prayed. A few shots followed the roar. Then some spells. He rushed to the flap on his tent when something roared behind it. He turned to have the tent ripple and then pulled. It came down on him as the night turned into screams, growls, muzzle blasts and chaos.
He struggled for a moment to get out of the heavy canvas before moving his rod. "Ignis Domini!"
A ball of fire lanced out from his rod. One would expect that fire would consume all, but it only ate away at the tent material, such was the will of the Lord. Something howled in pain just over him. He rolled over to see the largest, ugliest, grey skinned thing he had ever seen. It howled in pain and shielded its face as the fire that consumed the tent burned hot and fast. It caught the clothing it was wearing on fire.
The hideous, ten-foot-tall monstrosity let out a guttural scream before turning and stomping off into the night.
"Stop it!" someone yelled.
Father Reginald turned to see a dozen other of the brutes stomping through the camp. Tents were down. One of them had ripped a man in half. Two musket shots felled one of the beasts. He was about to join the fray when a roar behind him had him spin about.
The hum of a giant sword cut over the din of the battle. He brought his rod up, ready to stop it, when the massive great sword cut through the rod, hacked most of his fingers off then split his shoulders from his body…
-oOo-
January 23, 1994
Outside of Albi, France
The frigid air of the French Pyrenees was a welcome thing as they walked out of the tunnel. For nearly two weeks they had been deep under the mountains. For someone like Harry, it had felt like a lifetime. Anders and Karl were even more relieved, as it had been longer, and they were just as much outdoorsman as Harry had become.
Sirius was walking next to him. Looking up towards the red, purple and orange painted clouds of a setting sun, he commented, "I never thought we were coming out."
Harry nodded. "I'm glad we are here."
"Hail!" a man yelled from the path ahead. The man they had met the night they followed the goblins below the earth was there to greet them.
Behind them, a dozen guards and three sledge teams followed them. They were taking a pair of vanishing cabinets with them to use on the islands, as well as one that connects them back to here. Harry had asked why they could not link more than one other cabinet to another and had been told they could, but that would come with his teachings later.
"How do you think Hammond will take to our guests?"
Harry looked over his shoulder. Rrunlung, six warriors and Ragnog's son, Ccruckpol, were coming with them. The half-giants were not this time but would be able to journey to the islands once the cabinets were established. The one that would like them to Rothsnarg was considered a master's work as it would connect points much further apart than normal. It was why his new mentor was coming.
"Muldoon is going to like them, but I don't know about the others," Harry replied.
Sirius smirked. "Yeah, Lynne maybe not. I just hope no one offends them."
Harry shrugged. "We will warn everyone. They don't need to leave our compound, and I didn't get the feeling they were staying for long. Only long enough to get the cabinets setup, then they were off. We will have to go back to the other two reserves in the spring. They really want to get to them."
"We will keep our side of the deal. I know better than to go against a deal with the goblins," Sirius told him.
When they came to the group of French men, Harry could feel their wands, even though they had their rifles out. Sirius reached out a hand. Allard took his forearm. "It is good to see you come out. Not all those we take here do."
"You just need to know how to deal with them. I didn't forget your offer when we went down," Sirius said to the man. Anders and Karl joined them. Simmons, Yvonne and others with InGen were not far behind the Frenchmen.
"Now is not the time, but when you can, let the goblins know you want us. It will be the only way to contact us," the man said.
"I will. Thank you," Sirius told the man.
Harry knew that it was important, as this was only the second group of wizards they had found, but he wanted to get home. He was missing Rexy and Lex. He walked up to the guards. Simmons reached out a hand. "Everything go well?"
"Very well. I think we have a new treaty, some new toys to take back and a few guests," Harry told him. Yvonne took his hand next.
"You mean them?" she asked, nodding over his shoulder.
Harry looked, then turned, introducing the goblins to the humans. Simmons looked a little uncomfortable. The goblins touched the medallions that Sirius had enchanted with the translation spell. "Vice-Captain Ccruckpol, son of King Ragnog, and Master Runemaster Rrunlung, these are my other mentors, Yvonne Umbridge and George Simmons. Both are warriors and work for InGen and Jurassic Park."
Yvonne leaned over to him. "Do I shake their hands?"
"Only if you want to lose it," Harry said back. Ccruckpol grinned.
"These cabinets must be loaded carefully. Damage could interrupt the runes before we set them in the next resting place," Rrunlung told them.
"We'll make sure they get where they are going in one piece," Simmons said.
"You better, or you will feel my blade," the fierce old woman goblin stated.
Harry chuckled as the man sized her up. "Master Rrunlung, Simmons is the one that taught me how to use my sword."
The old woman grinned. "It has been a while since I've had a challenge."
"Is she serious?" Simmons asked.
Yvonne grinned. "I would love to see someone else beat your arse around. You do it to us enough."
"Is that a bet?" Ccruckpol queried.
"I have a gallon on Master Rrunlung," Harry said.
She snarled at him. "You offend me, child."
"Simmons is better than me, but I still think you will win," Harry told her.
"Is better normal?" Yvonne queried.
"Yeah, but they won't take normal money," Harry told her.
"Oh. Is she good?"
"I don't know, but I would assume so," Harry replied.
The old goblin eyes narrowed at him. "I can take you down too, child."
Harry gave her a hard look back. He knew he couldn't back down. "I accept your challenge."
Ccruckpol clacked his tongue. "I scent profit on the winds."
"It's probably the smell of the pits," another goblin said coming up to them. "I heard a bet."
And thus the sport of betting, true betting, was introduced to the humans.
-oOo-
Latin: Carissime Domine, da nobis ardorem ad videndum bene tuum = Dear Lord, grant us the heat to see your will.
Latin: Domine mi, da fidelibus tuis voluntatem tuam sequi. = My Lord, allow your faithful to follow your will
Latin: Ignis Domini = The Lord's Fire
-oOo-
Next time on The Magic of Amber: The Order investigates its missing expedition while Jurassic Park completes its preparations for opening and the last preserve in Europe is found.